You've Got To Hide Your Love Away
by spheeris1
Summary: PG :: AU fic :: Title is Beatles song :: Set during the years 1964 - 1965 :: 'And then you feel guilty for wanting something more than this 'Kyla Davies, 2464 Pinewood Drive, Hollywood, CA 90078'.' :: Eventual Spashley :: COMPLETED
1. From Me To You

The first year she went to camp, all of eleven years old and still shy around kids she did not know, Spencer Carlin got teased about her first name.

'_It's a boy's name. Are you really a boy?_' hit her ears and it sounded like a ruler's slap to the wrist.

Usually Glen got that, due to muddy feet along the newly carpeted floors of the den or because he would put a toad in Sister Anne's desk or every time he 'accidentally' took the Lord's name in vain… but Spencer never had anyone say a thing about her name.

Every aunt or uncle's sweet coo, pinched cheeks and too much candy – and they didn't mention her name. Every girl she grew up with, white dresses in the sunlit church yard – and they didn't treat her differently because of her name.

But during that first year of camp, with her leather-bound bible of red and her twice-combed blonde hair and taunting underneath batting eyelashes, Spencer Carlin learned so much more about life than God ever taught her.

*

It was before their hour at the lake and after morning mass, some little thing wedged between their usual summer days.

Amanda, Mandy for short (_it's what she told all of them to call her_), with her auburn pigtails and confident smile, purposefully strode up to the old wooden stage and pulpit.

And every girl was silent, from Susanne – plump and sufferer of many arrows – to Pauline, leader of each dinner prayer and seller of hidden cigarettes.

Spencer, too, at her table with some other girls – outsiders for some reason or another, whether her unusual name like a scarlet 'A' on her chest or Megan (_drunk father and absent mother_) or Patricia (_family of lapsed Catholics now trying to make good_) or any of the others with their 'issues of faith', as they were called – Spencer was quiet and waiting for Mandy to speak.

"We are starting up a pen-pal program with other girls across the globe! It is a way to share the glory of Christ and to experience a whole other culture!" Mandy smiled out to all of them, face filled with eagerness and it caught on like wildfire.

Because if Mandy liked it, surely it was good and it was right to be excited.

And so every girl grinned, murmured happily and clapped their hands.

Patricia snorted, milk on her lips, and Spencer kept her blue eyes averted – not wanting to be associated with a disrupter of this moment that seemed so important to everyone here.

She didn't want to be the odd one out this time. Six years of being shunned has dragged her from pleasant child to almost reclusive teenager and so she clapped, too. She smiled until her cheeks hurt with the effort.

"Great. **More** talking about Jesus Christ."

Megan's voice was soft, but her words were always harsh. Spencer supposed it was because of an alcoholic father. Surely what the man said was like the edge of glass and there was no mother around to guide Megan, to tell her proper manners from rude ones.

"Carlin seems pleased."

And Patricia, lips now a perfect red, likes to bait other girls – to get them into trouble, to amuse herself – and Spencer refuses to jump to on this particular worm.

They might be lumped together, but they are far apart.

Patricia doesn't want to be a servant of God. Megan doesn't want to follow rules.

But Spencer Carlin just wants to be like everyone else.

In magazines, the ones that Spencer reads when she is back home and lying on her bed, are the countries that she imagines writing to – some girl in Peru or Africa, perhaps godless but certainly interesting – and she is pleased.

_It could be fun. It could teach me a lot. I could have a friend from another place, far from Ohio, and that would be… nice._

*

You let your hand go into a velvet bag and pull out yellow strips of paper, each piece holding the name of some girl and her mailing address.

And you hope for something bigger than California.

And then you feel guilty for wanting something more than this 'Kyla Davies, 2464 Pinewood Drive, Hollywood, CA 90078'.

Other girls scream about Canada or England.

Patricia throws her pen-pal slip of paper away and Megan talks incessantly about her girl's name (_Babalona Bruno_), saying she might be the daughter of mobsters. How Megan knows about such things is a mystery to Spencer and so she tunes the both of them out.

And she brings up pens and paper, trying to be enthused by writing someone who lives in Hollywood.

The land of movies might be interesting to some girls, but Spencer had her 'interest' cut short by her mother.

'_Full of degeneracy and absolutely against the word of the Bible. Neither you or Glen is aloud near one of those houses… and Glen, you better not test my patience!_' was Paula Carlin's decree and, as far as Spencer was concerned, it might as well have been from a voice on high.

Glen never listened, sneaking around to see films and telling Spencer to not breathe a word.

She was afraid of being caught, her mother's punishment being worse than self-recrimination.

But, deep past her recited scripture and her pious gaze and her fearful walk, Spencer did everything in her power to not betray her brother.

Because she loved him, to be sure… but also, she envied him.

Her pen is stuck at 'Dear Kyla…' when Lisa busts in, hurriedly whispering in Megan's ear and then running out again.

"What's that about?" Patricia asks and Megan grins wildly at them, dropping down to the floor and pulling up the fourth wooden plank at the edge. It is secret spot – for smokes, for candy, for records that the sisters would not condone.

And Patricia shuts the door, then the windows.

And Spencer sits still, anxious for so many reasons… until Megan pulls out a 45, placing it gently on the record player and shoving aside the children's hymns.

"They'll be on the television tonight, during the newsreel!"

Megan gushes and the girl doesn't usually do that, but it is to be expected.

Even Patricia loses some of her acerbic nature.

Even Spencer breaks a rule once in a while.

The Beatles have turned many a good girl and, while Spencer is sure of her path as a righteous young lady… she sings softly along with her two cabin mates, finding the words to start off her letter as well.

'_Dear Kyla,_

_I am glad to write to you and hope to talk with you about many interesting things. _

_I live in Ohio and am seventeen. I have a brother named Glen. _

_I go to Beaumont, a Catholic school for girls._

_What about you?_

_Sincerely,_

_Spencer Carlin_

_Ps – Do you like The Beatles? _

/ / /

TBC


	2. Do You Want To Know A Secret

Kyla Davies is used to getting what she wants – if the dress was her color (_periwinkle or burgundy_), she got it. And if she wanted to stay out a little later than her curfew (_like around eleven instead of nine_), she would do so and not worry at all about a parents reproach.

At least that was the case before her father settled down, giving up on the life of a musician – at the badgering of her mother – and now spends his days at the bank of his father in law.

It made Raife Davies a breadwinner, better money than any 'string-strummer' ever could earn, and it made Christine Davies happy as a clam.

And with this new profession came new rules to be followed.

It put a crimp in Kyla's social life and the girl wasn't sure she could take it anymore.

Gone were the fun nights spent at boy-girl parties, where they all drank beers stolen from ice-chests and they all went past first base fumblings.

Gone were the lazy weekends spent by the pool, with no need to get up from their lounge chairs or to stop drinking fresh lemonade.

And, as if they couldn't wait to take **all **the fun out of her life, Raife and Christine Davies decided that the whole family needed to go to church.

The closest any of them had ever gotten to God was in swearing, which brought a disapproving glare from Christine if it was said in public and a repeat of said swearing from her father no matter where they were.

"Ashley, hurry up!"

"Keep your shoes on!"

"They are on! C'mon! Christine is going to blow the horn!"

"God almighty, will you be quiet, Kyla…"

They were sisters and they had their moments of getting along.

When they shopped, they got along and talked about skirts and tops and such.

And that was it. Where Kyla was a social butterfly, skipping down steps to her friends after school and going to dances with boys who were letting their hair grow a little longer than was normal… Ashley Davies took after their father in all ways, much to Christine's chagrin and to Raife's joy.

Ashley played the piano, the '_only acceptable instrument for a young girl to play_' their mother stated – though Ashley's way of playing the piano was far from ladylike, and Ashley hung out with boys – not just for necking or the like, but to run around town with and goof around with… Ashley drank and smoked and didn't hide it at all, pushing it in Christine's face at any and all times… even now, even at seventeen, Ashley was still getting into trouble and causing a scene – sometimes just for the sake of it. Kyla sometimes wonders if that is the only reason Ashley sticks around – just to make Christine mad.

"Don't say that around Christine. She'll flip."

"Christine flips about everything, Ky."

They didn't always call their mother by her given name.

But when you spend years trying to please a person and they never budge an inch, you lose affection for them and any term of devotion is lost.

Ashley did it first, garnering a slap to the face. But once Kyla followed her older sister (_just older by a year, though_), Christine stopped fighting it.

They loved each other as a family and, yet, they couldn't stand one another either.

It was a terrible tug-o-war.

A horn blares from the front of their house and Ashley finally steps out of the bathroom, wearing a dark blue dress and matching hat, looking so much older than she should.

Even around the eyes, eyes of brown and gold, Ashley looks like she has aged overnight.

Not in a bad way, mind… It suits Ashley to look older, Kyla thinks to herself and looks at her own ensemble for this Sunday morning and finds her own outfit to be childish in comparison.

"Quit staring, Kyla. Thought you were in a hurry or something."

And Ashley goes down the staircase quickly and opens the front door and leaves Kyla to catch up, rushing to the sidewalk and to the car, out of breath and annoyed.

"Can you two be on time for anything?" Christine hisses and their father tries to calm the situation with levity. Ashley just puts on her dark sunglasses and Kyla sighs audibly at another disaster in the making:

**The Davies Go To Church Again**

*

She had forgotten, to be perfectly honest.

And once it was in her hands, she intended to forget about it again.

Because Kyla Davies is a cheerleader and a member of the pep squad and of the glee club.

High school and dating and fun – that's her life.

And that life doesn't involve writing to some girl in some other state (_which happens to be Ohio_).

But then Ashley sees the envelope and snatches it, giggling to herself like a fool.

"Give that back!" Kyla whispers too loudly, earning the second glare of the day from Christine.

"Why? You don't want it."

"I was gonna… uh… well, I was…"

"Going to throw it away, right?"

"…Maybe."

"Look, Ky, I don't care. Aren't you curious to peek inside, just a little?"

"Not really."

"You are a stick in the mud, you know that?"

"And you are a nosy sister. Just let me throw it away, Ash…"

Kyla's voice reaches a whiny pitch and she tries to stop it, thinking that a girl of her age – sixteen – shouldn't whine at all. It is unbecoming. It is not mature and attractive.

_Ashley doesn't whine._

And Ashley Davies doesn't care about Kyla's wishes, not when mischief can be had.

Kyla watches as Ashley excuses herself, pleading a desperate need for the restroom – which their father believes and Christine fumes about – and Ashley winks as she walks down the aisle.

And so Kyla follows the example, stopping just short of running and careens through the door to the women's bathroom, finding Ashley in front of the sink and a slender finger sliding between envelope and letter.

They hover over this note like it is a something amazing.

And Kyla reckons that, for these five or ten minutes, it is entertaining.

Neither sister thinks much of the actual body of the letter, neither of them interested in 'brother Glen' or 'Catholic girls' school' – but the extra question at the end brings up a familiar debate.

"Not this again! God!" Ashley exclaims, still holding the letter and rolling her eyes.

"I think you do this just to be contrary."

"No, not at all. I just think that The Beatles aren't that great. The guys that our dad played with – now those are musicians, Kyla!"

"I know for a fact that you like 'Do You Want To Know A Secret?', Ash!"

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"**No** I don't."

"**Yes** you do."

They do this often enough, get into silly arguments about not-so-serious topics and allow it to really bust them up for a while. Kyla used to think Ashley hated her or something, slamming the door in Kyla's face at every turn when she was a wee little girl.

But then she began to think it was because, as a child, she wanted to latch onto Ashley and didn't leave her sister alone for a second.

It was because she adored Ashley, loved the brashness of her and the rebelliousness of her, and loved the fact that being different made Ashley tough against their parents or against careless boyfriends or against spiteful girls… Kyla hung the moon by Ashley, once upon a time.

Now, they just get along once in a while and give each other grief the rest of the time.

"Maybe I'll write this girl and let her know that my sister is such a **big** fan of The Beatles…"

"Kyla, don't do that."

"You are pushing my buttons."

"I'll put your head down that toilet, I swear it…"

"God, Ash, it's not like she knows you or something!"

"It's the principle of the matter. I have a reputation to uphold."  
"What reputation is that? Listening to that guy with the guitar—"

"Bob Dylan, Ky!"

"Yea, him… he stinks."

"Take that back."

"No."

"Do it now."

"Give me the letter and maybe I will."

And their verbal sparring dwindles down to sticking tongues out at one another and rude faces being made.

But Kyla doesn't take back her comment about Bob Dylan and, for whatever reason, Ashley doesn't give the letter back.

By the time they are back in the pew, the murderous glare from Christine in direct opposition to the words the priest is speaking, Kyla Davies has achieved her goal: she doesn't recall a thing about a pen-pal program at this church or a letter written to her.

All she can think of is the reprimand that she and Ashley will get once they are all back in the car… and how Kyla agrees, like Ashley so often says, '_it's worth it to see that look on that old bag's face_'.

*

TBC


	3. I Want To Hold Your Hand

Aiden Dennison comes by on every Wednesday and on every other Saturday, always tending to the pool cleaning and washing off the patio. He says it is a summer job to pay for a busted radiator cap on his truck, the one with the rusted sides and the black smoke coming from the exhaust pipe.

He taught Ashley how to drive in the parking lot of King High School, clutch never quite the same after her foot hit it and they kissed a couple of times.

Ashley Davies didn't really like any of the boys at school, too busy slicking their hair back and trying to be mod, trying to be British and failing.

And, after they slept together, she didn't like Aiden Dennison – at least not like the guy wanted.

He would give her this poor-man's gaze, like she is a diamond, and it made her skin crawl.

Because she didn't believe in love, not like every other bubble-gum girl her age.

She watched the slow decline of her parent's marriage, from meals made for two and eater by one to shouting in the bedroom that no expensive walls could cover up.

If they couldn't do it – a former model from a Sears catalog and a former blues musician, pretty and perfect and all of that – then who could survive together?

Certainly not Ashley and Aiden.

But she liked the boy, considered him a friend, someone she could have some fun with.

Not just heavy-petting and going all the way, but someone she could just talk to about stuff like cars and music and life… not necessarily in that order.

They had a ritual, worked out over days and days of leaves in chlorine.

She would meet him at the diner on the corner, they'd get a sack of burgers and two shakes and then they'd hit the beach – Aiden always singing some broken version of 'When I Grow Up (To Be A Man)' as they cruised by the coastline.

She figured the boy had secret longings to be a surfer and to spend hours waxing boards instead of cleaning up the mess of a well-off family.

But he had to hang up those dreams… dreams cost money and time, neither of which a guy in his place in life could afford.

Ashley can afford her dreams, but she isn't sure if it is worth the hassle anymore.

She has no college aspirations, no Ivy League like Christine wants and… yet… she isn't sure that a life of cheap motel rooms and old buses and booze is the way she wants her life to go, either.

Her father always talks happily of his traveling days and, when Ashley was five or so, it sounded like a magical time – full of adventure and seeing new places.

Then she got older and saw the cracks upon this particular fantasy – life on the road tore up families.

Not that Ashley has a family or a husband or a child to worry about.

She could just up and leave, taking her father's hand-me-down guitar with the one missing string and sing about her journey around the world.

She could be like Bob Dylan, actually writing songs about something important – not just about falling in love and losing love and all that crap.

"You look like you are fit to be tied, Ash."

"Yea?"

"Yea. What's that scowl about? You missing my attention?"

"Nope. Just thinkin'."

And she turns to the window, watching every car going by and the flash of yellow on the highway.

And Aiden leaves her be, because he has learned to not push this girl or she bolts.

Even from a moving vehicle, Aiden reckons, Ashley would jump if you riled her up.

*

They sit on the beach and discuss the merits of _Goldfinger_, where Aiden thinks it grand and Ashley wonders why no Bond Girl can ever save herself.

"You are the only girl I know that doesn't want him, you know…"

"So?"

"So, don't you think that's odd?"

"No."

"C'mon, Ash, all girls get all hot and bothered over James Bond. Even a weird gal like you."

"Just drop it, Aiden, okay?"

He overstepped the line and Aiden isn't sure how. Or why. Or what for.

But Ashley is stone-faced now and gazing at the ocean and leaving him to his food – alone, if not physically then in every other way someone can leave you behind.

And Ashley isn't angry at Aiden, not really. She doesn't like James Bond. She thinks he is boring, just some guy in a suit and who has an accent. And all the girls in the films are useless, which she doesn't like either. It seems like every movie in the world is about how women were just there to be with guys.

And Ashley didn't find that amusing or pleasing.

And that made Ashley different (_or weird or odd as Aiden put it_) from everyone else again – her life is one big book of being the odd girl in the group.

She didn't want to make home for some man and she didn't want to spend her life having children.

She wants to cut a new path, she wants to be freewheelin' – just like Dylan's album cover, she wants to walk the streets of the city and speak about deep things.

She just doesn't want to hurt anyone in the process.

Not like her father did to all of them. Not like Christine does to Ashley and her sister.

But that is never all that gets under Ashley's skin, far from it.

Aiden's tiny bit of prodding brings up the very thing that Ashley is trying desperately to ignore – the ultimate thing about her that makes her different (_odd and weird and so many other things_).

That thing, the one with barely a name to give to it, gave Ashley a fright at the age of thirteen and she's been shutting it out of her mind steadily since then.

Carol Parker Stenson, like a porcelain doll – smooth and beautiful – caught Ashley's eye on the playground and they became fast friends. They would play jacks and skip rope and share all their books and records. It was slightly before boys became the end-all-be-all of every girl's world.

It was before Ashley had thought about kissing and hugging and such.

It was just Carol and Ashley having fun – laughing and singing and dancing around.

Something shifted, though, and Ashley found her heart pounding so hard in her chest whenever Carol held her hand.

Or when Carol spent the night at her house, body flush against Ashley all the way to morning.

Or when Carol did anything at all.

And that's when Ashley knew something about her was dreadfully… **wrong**.

She stopped being friends with Carol, shunning the girl's friendship. And she started to hang around every boy in school, started teasing them and joking around with them. She spent all her time consumed with the male gender from then on, like it might cure her of this thing without a name.

It never did. It just masked it.

And Ashley let it.

She might be the girl that stands out in a crowd, for good or for bad – but she knows that this little secret is one she can never tell a single soul.

"Let's hit the water, Aiden."

"Yea, sure, Ash."

He smiles, glad to be in her good graces again and Ashley takes his hand, leading him to the ocean.

*

She stays out late, this new protocol of her father's going in one ear and out the other.

He might be trying to be all 'Father Knows Best', with Christine nagging from the wings, but Ashley doesn't care and keeps on driving down the quiet highway.

Aiden had dropped her off with a kiss to the cheek and she fought the urge to wipe the sensation off of her skin. Not because she didn't like kisses, but not from a friend.

And she didn't have a boyfriend, a steady guy to get those from… and she didn't really want one.

And that other thing – dear God, that other thing can't even come into the light of day.

Before Ashley knows it, she is out of Los Angeles and into Ventura, the sun just a faint line against the black sky and nothing but the sound of the engine ahead of her.

It was a guilty gift, for missing her birthday last year, and Ashley didn't blink an eyelid about it.

It was extravagant. It was owed.

They were at Lake Tahoe and she got a Flat Black Coupe de Ville, black on burgundy, for their absence.

Aiden told her when to change the oil and when to rotate the tires, even though he continually offered to do it himself and she always refused his help.

And it rides like a dream, soft on the road, and Ashley thinks she could just drive forever.

Leave California and never look back, that's what Ashley sometimes dreams of doing.

Kyla likes to turn the radio up too loud, likes to prop her feet up on the dash and Ashley kicked the girl out. It was one of their more spectacular fights – Kyla, red-faced and yelling on the side of the road as Ashley drove off in a snit.

They made up, as usual, but Kyla keeps her shoes on the floor and her eyes ahead now.

Ashley's car, Ashley's rules.

When she pulls off the road, seeing nothing but stars up above and only hearing the crash of waves, Ashley slowly turns the radio up – not caring that she probably won't hear a solitary song she truly likes.

It'll be Jan & Dean or The Kingsmen (_who everyone said to listen to, with supposedly racy lyrics to their songs, but none to really be found_) on the dial.

Or, of course, The Beatles.

Ashley sighs heavily when 'I Want To Hold Your Hand' comes on for the millionth time, but her body does not listen – for her feet reluctantly tap and her fingers find imaginary keys to play in time.

It isn't hatred for the Liverpool lads. Ashley is her father's daughter, raised on Muddy Waters and Charlie Parker… where does a group like The Beatles fit into that?

"Nowhere, lads…" She says out loud, reaching into her clutch for a cigarette and a lighter.

But fingers find a folded letter instead, tripping over the edges at first – confused – and then Ashley remembers a girl from somewhere east of California.

Ashley fishes the lighter out and flicks it, illuminating this note from… _Ohio_… and wonders how she didn't notice the girl's name before.

_It's a boy's name._

And that 'p.s.' at the closing, matching up seamlessly with the song wrapping up on the radio and Ashley decides, quite spontaneously, to write this girl back.

Maybe she could knock some sense into this 'Spencer', tell her a thing or two about **real **music.

An address book is all she has and a pencil, but Ashley is determined.

For some reason, it strikes Ashley as important to tell someone outside of her day-to-day life about good music. And maybe other things. Maybe a lot of things that she has never told anyone. Ever.

The giddiness is bizarre and Ashley writes before she changes her mind.

_Spencer,_

_Do YOU like The Beatles? They are dull. I am not much of a fan._

_You should listen to Dylan. Or Coltrane._

_Ashley_

_p.s. – Oh, I'm Kyla's sister. Let me know if you'd rather write to her._

*

TBC


	4. I'm Happy Just To Dance With You

"Must be mad to not like them, that's what I say."

Megan states this with a nod and a stern voice, acting so much like one of the sisters that Spencer has to stifle a laugh. But it is unexpected, a girl not liking The Beatles, and Spencer – even though this is not her assigned pen-pal – is intrigued by… _Ashley. Ashley Davies, I guess_.

Patricia says she knows of a Bob Dylan and tells Spencer that '_you need to get out more_' and Megan decides to move on to better things – like playing a 45 of Bobby Vinton's 'Blue Velvet'.

Spencer likes this song and then, quite suddenly, she wonders if Ashley Davies has blue eyes.

Or green or brown and somewhere in between these colors.

And she doesn't take the time to chastise her curiosity, because… well, what is this pen-pal program for if not to ask questions and learn about other people?

Spencer even feels her head move, her own sure nod of acceptance – imperceptible to her cabin mates – and she gets out a fresh sheet of notebook paper.

As Megan leans against the door-way, swaying in some imaginary dance, and as Patricia reads a book none of the girls are supposed to have (_Candy by Terry Southern, given the apt term of 'erotica'_), Spencer gets her pen that has the blue ink…

And it is not lost on her that all three of them, outsiders at this camp of God and piety, are exactly what they are shunned for.

Outsiders and outcasts of varying degrees, from a boy's name to a broken home and beyond.

'…_feeling the rapture grow, like a flame burning brightly… but when she fled, gone was the glow of Bluuuuue Velvet…'_

Spencer hums along with the tune, hurrying to get this new letter written and sent to the post master, before the dinner bell echoes across the valley and tears all three of them from their secret world of sinful text and rock-n-roll music and missives to girls who don't like The Beatles.

*

_Dear Ashley,_

_It is a pleasure to speak with you. If your sister also wishes to write to me, then tell her that is fine._

_I must say, it is funny to know someone who does not like The Beatles. You said you find them dull._

_I find them fun. I can only sneak a listen or two when I am here at the camp._

_My cabin mate, Patricia, knows of a Bob Dylan. Is this the right man?_

_Who is 'Coltrane'?_

_Do you like Bobby Vinton? We are listening to 'Blue Velvet' and I find it divine._

_Sincerely,_

_Spencer C._

_p.s. – Thank you for writing me back. It would have been a sad pen-pal program if no one responded._

*

"Ashley, you have a letter…" Christine lets the sentence hang out there, as if there will be an explanation. But Ashley doesn't dare give one, not wanting Christine involved in any of her affairs.

Kyla shoots her a look from the dining table, eyes flashing coolly as if the jig is up and she knows exactly what Ashley did with that 'silly note from the other day' (_Kyla's words and I quote_).

Ashley turns on her heel, leaving the entrance-way and going up the stairs, counting to ten and waiting for whatever excuse Kyla would toss out to leave the table.

That's when Ashley hurries, hopping over those last two steps and rushing to her bedroom –which she no longer shares with Kyla, thank God…

She can hear the girl's footsteps and Ashley pushes her door shut, propping a chair up against the handle. A sigh is the first thing that comes through the wooden barrier.

"Ashley, what did you do?"

"Nothing. I'll be down later, okay?"

"Did you write something rude to that Ohio girl?"

"Did you let Jimmy Smith pass second base last night, out on the porch when Christine was too drunk to notice?"

"Where you **spying** on me?"

Kyla's voice, even though quiet, is still shrill and Ashley wonders if dogs can hear her sister in other states.

But this is their game and Ashley just won – for now, at any rate.

"I'll be down soon, Ky."

"**Fine**."

She could hear the huffiness in Kyla's stomping back down to the dining room, but it didn't matter.

Ashley wasn't even sure why this letter mattered.

It's not like this girl in Ohio (_Spencer Carlin, with a brother named Glen_) matters much – they don't know each other, can't meet up at the movies and share a Coke.

They are hundreds of miles away from each other.

And yet, Ashley enjoys this secret communication with someone who doesn't know about Christine or her father… someone who doesn't know about Kyla (_just as a name, not as a person_) or King High or Aiden or Carol Parker Stenson…

Spencer Carlin is in Ohio and has a brother and is Catholic – and that's all Ashley needed to know, in her car that night several weeks ago.

"God, she is such a bobby-sox girl, a square…" Ashley says out loud, reading the letter with her back on the mattress and her feet on the headboard.

But the grin on her own face is undeniable and unexplainable.

So, Ashley just pays it no mind and digs out a proper sheet of paper to write on, already knowing what she will put in this letter.

And that makes Ashley grin even more.

*

_Spencer,_

_If I give you the name of an album, you must promise me to find it and listen to it._

_The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. LISTEN TO IT!_

_What kind of camp are you at that you can't listen to songs?_

_Oh, and it is John Coltrane. He plays the tenor saxophone. It is aces._

_And Bobby Vinton is as bad as The Beatles. Sorry._

_Ashley_

_p.s. – You're welcome. Your name is very different. Good different._

*

Ashley didn't know what possessed her to write that last bit in her first real letter to that girl in Ohio and Spencer didn't want to admit how nice it was to hear someone say her name is... _'different, good different_'.

The summer of 1964 spreads out before them and it is now a little better than any other summer before, filled with pencil scratches and smudged ink and two girls reaching out to one another – both for their own reasons, but somehow meeting in the middle.

*

TBC


	5. She Loves You

Late June, 1964:

_Dear Ashley,_

_Do you like __any __singers who are popular? _

_I've asked Patricia to find this album you want me to hear. She can get anything apparently._

_I am at a camp sponsored by the church I go to._

_We are not allowed to eat candy or stay out late or anything like that… and certain music is not considered proper to the sisters._

_Megan hid her records underneath the floorboards._

_I've had some other girls say… they dislike my name. So, thank you for saying it is different but good… _

_A good kind of different isn't bad, is it?_

_Sincerely,_

_Spencer C._

_p.s – What are you doing all summer long in Hollywood? Bet it's fun._

*

_Spencer,_

_Well, not really. I mean… I __can__ enjoy some popular stuff. Is Dick Dale big over there in Ohio?_

_I like the way his guitar sounds. _

_Let me know when you have Bob Dylan at your camp and let me know what you think of it, of his songs and of his sound. It's pretty deep._

_Oh, Megan sounds cool. You hide stuff, too?_

_Sounds like a boring place to spend your time, this camp. My family is just now going to church… trying to turn Kyla and I into 'good young ladies'. I just find it dull._

_Girls can be stupid. Don't let them make you feel… weird or anything, okay? _

_Ashley_

_p.s. – Going to the beach a lot. You're not becoming a nun or something at this camp, are you?_

*

Early July, 1964:

_Dear Ashley,_

_I'll ask Glen when I get home. He loves the guitar, so he might know Dick Dale. My mother doesn't like me to listen to anything neat. Kind of makes me angry, sometimes._

_Patricia snuck the record in yesterday, after a visit from her boyfriend. He is at a neighboring college and got it. Megan says he sounds like he has a cold or something._

_Let me listen to it again, when I can really hear it. I promise I will do so and let you know what I think._

_Would you be willing to listen to songs I suggest?_

_Coconut-chocolate bars. Five of them. Glen stashed them in my suitcase and I share them with my cabin mates. If the sisters knew, I'd have to help in the kitchen!_

_What else do you find dull? Why don't you like church? _

_Sincerely,_

_Spencer C._

_p.s. – No, not a nun! Never been to the beach. Would like to one day. _

_p.p.s. – You are good different, too, Ashley. Thank you for being my pen-pal._

*

_Spencer,_

_My mother makes me angry all the time. We don't get along at all. But she doesn't tell me what to do, I don't let her… You know, even in a letter, you are easy to tell stuff to. I don't usually share like this… do you mind? Is it odd?_

_Listen to Dylan during the morning, when you first wake up. I read that the brain works better after a night of sleep, so that's when you should listen to him again. _

_Okay, fine, for you I will listen to songs you suggest. Just no Beatles. Please???_

_This camp sounds like a real bore. Did you want to spend the summer there?_

_School is dull and rain is dull. Kyla can be dull sometimes. Lots of things are dull to me, I guess._

_This isn't, though. I like this pen-pal thing. _

_And the ocean, I like that. And music, which I suppose is pretty clear._

_Church is dull. ALL THE TIME._

_Ashley_

_p.s. – What is Ohio like? _

_p.p.s. – Thanks Spencer. I mean it._

*

Spencer doesn't immediately like the Bob Dylan album, finding his sound unlike anything she had heard before and struggling to gather the importance of his lyrics.

However, she was not dismayed. She just tried a different approach.

She got up quietly, getting the record out and placing it on the turntable. And then she laid right down upon the cool wooden floor and listened, volume low – the songs mixing with the sound of birds waking up outside the window and the soft snore of Patricia four feet away, buried in blankets.

It is before the sisters ring the bells. It is before prayer and breakfast and bible studies.

It is before Spencer spends another day with girls who treat her poorly and tease her still, all the while thinking of this Ashley Davies in California. Just the thought of Ashley can make Spencer feel… oh, she isn't sure **what** it is… Kind of invincible. Tough. Secure.

And Spencer still isn't confident that she 'gets' the Dylan album, not truly.

But… _Ashley was right in one thing, though – it is better with the dawn_.

She reads the letter over and over before she responds, a ritual of sorts that she is more content to follow than the scripture-a-night charge all the girls are given.

In fact, Spencer is not sure of the last time she even thought about reading the bible.

Even the fear of her mother's disapproval is hidden somewhere in the back of Spencer's mind, happily replaced with the joy of a new friend.

_An interesting friend. A friend who doesn't make me feel less than. _

Spencer has shared her secret love of classical music, the kind that her father loves to listen to (_Bach, Strauss, Chopin_) and how she will still like The Beatles, no matter their growing fame.

She talks about her mother sparingly, only in swatches of revelation – probably painting a rather harsh picture and Spencer wants to regret it. She waits for that familiar swirling of guilt, the one she is sure God puts in everyone, but it stays silent.

She tells all about Glen – his Notre Dame dreams, his girlfriends, the way he does as he pleases and cares nothing for rules.

Spencer tells Ashley anything and everything… and then, a first question comes back to her, and the urge returns to ask it.

For a reason she cannot even comprehend, Spencer is nervous as she raises her pen and that jittery feeling doesn't leave her all day.

*

August, 1964:

_Dear Ashley,_

_What color are your eyes? I don't know why I want to know… but I do._

_And you think you are odd! How about me, asking you this? _

_You don't have to answer me. Just so you know._

_Oh, I listened to Dylan again! It was better this time. I still am not sure about it, but I will keep trying._

_Patricia says she can get me some John Coltrane as well. _

_Going to give that a try._

_Did you listen to some Chopin? I think you might like it._

_Ohio is okay. It can be dull, just like you find school or the rain. I do like the rain, though._

_Sometimes I daydream about moving far away from Ohio._

_Do you ever want to leave California?_

_Sincerely,_

_Spencer_

_p.s. – I'll be going back home soon, so I'll give you that address, okay?_

_p.p.s. – I really like that you can talk to me. I really really do._

*

Ballade No. 2, Op. 38 is all she could find at the library, but it was enough to get Ashley to ask for a book about Chopin, of which there were a few, and so she read in a little room at the back – record playing and the story of how Frederic Chopin dated a woman named George Sand.

They stayed in some cold monastery and Chopin wrote Preludes and finished sonatas, even though he was sick and no one could save him from suffering – he had to write, fighting to get his piano and to play.

Ashley understands this, whether from her father's influence or just her own fingers refusing to stay still, she understands the need to create music.

And then she thinks about Spencer Carlin in Ohio, the girl who she tells more to than her own sister.

She tells Spencer about Christine, slowly at first and in small chunks, but then lets it loose in a rush and doesn't allow herself the time to rip the letter up before sending it.

She divulges many tiny secrets, like how she spent the night at a boy's house once (_nothing really happened, a few kisses, I've done more since then_) or how she once tried to swim from one pier to the other and almost drown (_I was only six_)… Ashley opens the door to Spencer and allows this girl in.

Not since Carol, not since those days of giggling and whispering – Ashley has kept every other girl her age at arm's length. Out of fear, out of such a strong fear, the kind that would propel her further into a guy's embrace and begs her to quiet the burning shame within.

But it is there again, sneaking up on her and tapping her shoulder, that thing Ashley most wants to deny and, yet, simply cannot deny – the way her eyes have lingered, so often, on Lisa Simon as the girl smiles in Civics class or the way she has dreamed, so many nights, about so many of her classmates or the woman sun-tanning on the sand… There it is again, warning her and coaxing her at the same time, with Spencer's letters and questions.

And Ashley cannot help herself, not when the temptation to be close to someone is so sweet.

*

Late August, 1964

_Spencer,_

_It's okay. We can be odd together._

_My eyes are brown, you know, dull and regular brown._

_What color are your eyes?_

_I did like the Chopin! It was surprisingly good… Did you know that he died so young? Only thirty-nine years old. My father always told me that musicians don't like to grow old._

_Maybe Chopin knew that._

_I want to leave California someday. Not sure where I will go, but I'd like to see new places._

_I'd like to take to the road and write songs._

_Ashley_

_p.s – Don't forget that address, okay? We can't be pen-pals otherwise._

_p.p.s. – I really really like it, too._

*

TBC


	6. I Feel Fine

The first of September finds Spencer back home, a summer that started off like every other one since she was eleven – the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost all tucked away at camp; taunts mixed with popsicle-stick houses, confessions before and after every breath – and, yet, a summer that ended with what Spencer can only call promise and hope.

_Ashley Davies_.

The name alone causes Spencer to smile softly to herself, while Glen eats his pancakes and talks with his mouth full… while her father drinks his coffee and while her mother hums her way along every surface of the kitchen – cleaning up breakfast before it is even over.

And Spencer, for all her dreaming of leaving Ohio's forests and towns, has missed this.

She has missed the way Glen yells around every corner of the house, never taking into consideration that the person he is shouting for (_or shouting at, we've had a few spats over the years_) could be in front of him. She has missed the way that her father greets her every morning, the same way since she was four, a ruffle of her hair and a kiss to her cheek – he always carries the scent of aftershave and soap and it will cling to her long after she has gone to school.

And her mother, while so hard understand sometimes, is a welcome sight, too.

Spencer loves the way that her mother's eyes light up when she walks into the room, like everything is perfect once mother sees daughter.

And maybe, sometimes, it is just like that. Or, at least, Spencer likes to think so – on this day, the only week left before school starts up again, her mother is so happy to have her children home.

It isn't about regulations and restrictions.

It's about love.

"Have you ever heard of Dick Dale, Glen?" Spencer asks suddenly.

She had intended to ask her brother in private, knowing that to mention this in front of her parents would bring up curiosity – from her father, gentle and from her mother, probing.

She supposes it is just the way mothers and fathers behave, but Spencer had this almost overwhelming urge to keep everything associated with Ashley to herself.

Not like a secret, not really – but… _special. This is special to me and I want it to stay that way._

But the question popped out all on its own, whether Spencer wanted it to or not. That seemed to be the case in anything that involved Ashley Davies – words just tumble out onto a piece of paper or out of her mouth and Spencer can't stop it from happening.

Glen wipes his lips on his shirt sleeve, much to their mother's irritation, and takes a big gulp of milk before answering.

"Yea, of course. How do you know of him?"

"Uh… Patricia, uh, mentioned him."

"He is the tops, Spence. That's surfin' music. Big on the west coast."

"Like California?"

"Where else, squirt?"

"Glen! Don't call me that!"

"Call you what? A squirt? But that's what you are…"

They continue this for a minute or two, Spencer with her fake pouting and Glen with his fake teasing (_well, it is real teasing but not mean spirited at all_) until their mother gets in their line of vision and turns her gaze onto Spencer, reminding the girl all to late on why she didn't want to ask her brother about Dick Dale in front of anyone else – **especially** her mother.

"Who is Patricia? A girl from camp?"

"Yes."

"And she was listening to this 'surf' music at camp?"

"No. Just talking about it, that's all."

"You know I don't like you two listening to that kind of… **music**. What about The Kingston Trio? They're fun and wholesome."

This is their mother at her most familiar – the woman who still looks young and vibrant, keeping up with what is vaguely popular on the radio… and then deciding if her children should be allowed to listen to it or not.

The Kingston Trio and Connie Francis are in.

Almost everything else is out.

"Aw Mom, that's squaresville. Besides, 'Tom Dooley' is about murder. That's not wholesome."

"Glen…"

Our father doesn't seem to have an opinion about music or what anyone listens to, as long as everyone is safe and sound at home when he returns from work. Where their mother rules with an iron fist, their father tends to take the least traveled route – the one of conversation.

But he pipes up at Glen's comment and Glen mumbles a 'sorry'.

"No 'surf' music. It's for your own good." Their mother says, directing it to the both of them and then she goes back to wiping down the stove. Their father goes back to drinking his coffee and Glen goes back to his pancakes.

And that is the end of that in the Carlin household.

Except for Spencer, who – for the first time – feels like she is trapped in her own home.

And all she can think is to write Ashley about it.

*

_Dear Ashley,_

_I wish my mother wasn't so strict. I asked about Dick Dale and Glen knows him._

_She won't let either of us listen to 'surfin' music._

_Why is she like this? I just don't get it._

_But Glen says his friend Ricky has a record of Dick Dale and he'll let me tag along so I can hear it._

_I love my brother so much._

_It's like I missed my family when I was at camp, missed being home, you know?_

_But now I am here and… I don't know. I wish I could go somewhere else, somewhere neat._

_I hope you don't think I am silly or anything, but I wish I could talk to you, you know, __really talk__._

_I love writing to you, gosh, you know I do._

_It would be nice, though, right? To talk?_

_I think so._

_Write back soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Spencer_

*

Just like the last time, though more strongly now, a nervous feeling swirls up in Spencer's stomach and – just like last time – she isn't sure why it is there in the first place.

It feels kind of like being sick and kind of like riding on a Ferris-wheel (_the autumn of last year, a fair out by some of the old farms in the county and I could see everything from the top_).

It's not a bad feeling, yet it is new and previously unknown.

It happened when she asked about the color of Ashley's eyes and it even happened when she read that they were '_brown, dull and regular brown_ ' – her gut lurched and constricted, reminding her a little bit of when she had the flu some ten years ago and everyone worried that she might die.

And the moment she writes the words, the moment she mentions the idea of the two of them speaking to one another – there goes her stomach, knots upon knots, all at once pleasant and terrifying.

But she seals the letter and she slips it under her pillow, waiting for the next day to roll around and so she can send it on its way to California and Ashley's hands.

Because Spencer doesn't know what is going on with her these days, something is changing inside of her and she isn't sure whether it is for good or for bad.

It's been more Bob Dylan and jazz and less God and His only begotten son in Spencer's thoughts lately.

And she likes it, she likes it a lot and Spencer won't let weird pains in her body keep her from Ashley, from the one who has introduced her to a whole new world.

*

Out of all the things that Kyla listens to (_The Animals, The Supremes, Herman's Hermits and that sort_), Duffy Power and the Fentones are the best. A cover band, to be sure, but with just a hint of blues in them to make it interesting.

Interesting to Ashley that is.

Even their dad likes it, because she catches him smiling from the hallway when he sees Kyla hopping around (_because it can't be considered dancing, not by any standard_) and Ashley playing an imaginary guitar.

"Who did this first, Ash?"

Ashley beats out the bass riff with her hands against Kyla's mattress and then grins over at her sister.

"Dad said Lloyd Price."

"I thought it was Elvis…"

"C'mon Ky, get with it."

Kyla sticks out her tongue and continues to spin around, moving her hips in time to the harmonica.

They both sing out the last line, a funny little bit of harmony to their voices, and then the needle hits the smooth part of the record – static silence.

"You should listen to more stuff like this, you know, broaden your horizons."

"My horizons are just fine. What about your 'horizons'?"

"Out to the ocean, Ky."  
"Fine, fine… you coming tonight?"

"To what?"

"Steven's first party of the school year, Ash. You used to go and have fun. Remember **fun**?"

"If that's your idea of fun…"

"It is. And I know what **your **idea of fun is these days."

"Excuse me?"

"What do you two talk about anyway?"

Ashley doesn't have to be as sharp as a tack to understand what Kyla is speaking of.

Or rather, **who** Kyla is asking about.

Normally, Kyla will ask questions and Ashley will answer – the answer might be rude or witty or filled with boredom – but Ashley always answers.

It is the kind of relationship they have.

They don't always get along, but they always keep the other in the loop.

How else could they have survived the years when their father was on the road and out of sight?

How else could they have survived Christine?

But reluctance is swimming in Ashley's veins, a hesitancy to bring up Spencer Carlin – Kyla's supposed to be pen-pal – because, well… because…

_Spencer matters to me and I don't want to let anyone in on it. It's special to me. Spencer's special to me._

"Music, mostly."

"What else?"

"Not much else, Ky."

"I know you are lying, Ash."

"I am not."

"Yes you are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"God, you are annoying!"

Ashley gets up quickly, bare feet pounding the floor in her haste to get away from Kyla and to her room.

But her sister is nosy. And (_I repeat…_) annoying.

"What's the big deal, Ash?"

"No big deal. You are just bothering me. A lot."

"God, **fine**!"

Now it is Kyla's turn to galumph away in a huff, but Christine's appearance puts the halt on that and both girls look over at the woman… who just happens to be holding a rather familiar blue envelope in her hand.

"I think you are keeping post offices in the black, dear… do you have a boyfriend hidden in Ohio?"

Kyla giggles almost uncontrollably and Ashley rolls her eyes as she reaches out, snatching the letter away from Christine.

"Yea, Ash, how is your '**boyfriend**'?" Kyla laughs out, drawing out that last term with mirth.

"How's Jimmy Smith, Ky?"

Both girls glare daggers at one another and Christine sighs, making her retreat to the lounge and – more than likely – a martini.

Ashley then turns around, all swift and deadly silent. And Kyla makes her retreat, but not without a parting volley.

"I'll find out sooner or later."

But what could Kyla possibly find out, Ashley ponders as she leans against her door and stares at the unopened letter.

It's nothing bad. Just talking about music and where we live and stuff like that… and, yet, Ashley can't imagine anyone else reading these letters or knowing their content.

Being a pen-pal is kind of like a pact you make, no spit in the palm of your hand, but with words and sharing. It's a bond and Ashley doesn't want to disrespect it, doesn't want to lose it.

Because underneath all her bravado and her sassiness… she is just Ashley Davies, just a girl with secret longings and desperate dreams.

And no one, not even Kyla, knows these things.

But Spencer Carlin is getting closer and closer and Ashley can barely handle this herself, can barely believe that those things once kept in shadow are now begging to be let out into the light.

And until Ashley can manage to tell the whole truth to someone, then no one else needs to know about it… not yet, not now…

*

_Spencer,_

_It's funny, you know. Your mother is on your back all the time and mine can't be bothered._

_I don't know which is better. Or worse._

_I think I love your brother, too! Go with him and listen to the record. You'll love it, it sounds like where I live and the beach and the sun._

_You want to talk? _

_We can do that. I'd like that a lot. I'll give you the number for here and you give me yours, okay?_

_And then we can talk, you know, for real._

_Ashley_

*

She found her hand to be shaking, ever so slightly, as she jotted down each number at the very end of the return letter. And even though she could easily say this is from fear – of allowing someone in, of being friendly with a girl again – Ashley wonders if it is something more than fear.

She wonders if it is, quite unexpectedly, the opposite of fear all-together.

That sensation of heat upon her face, as if someone were watching her every move, is sudden and strong. Ashley pushes the finished letter away and flops down onto her bed, looking to the ceiling as if there are solutions there.

Because Carol made her feel funny.

But Spencer Carlin, a girl in Ohio who she has never seen and is only just now getting a chance to speak to, is making her feel funny and light-headed and wonderfully scared.

*

TBC


	7. Can't Buy Me Love

Spencer Carlin is usually the one cracking her bedroom door just a little to catch Glen sneaking back in, taking note of how he knows just what parts of the floorboards creak when you step on them and how to keep his breathing shallow, and she lets him pass.

He is the older sibling, after all. She can't scold him if he goes traipsing at all hours of the night.

Even though she usually thinks him wrong to be lying to their parents.

Even though she'd like to be doing the same as him, sometimes, but knows she will never do so.

But not tonight, with his hand firm and warm within her own, the last of summer still clinging to the afterhours and making the air thick with humidity – you can hear crickets and the dead silence of not a shred of wind through the trees.

And it is after eleven – her parents in their room, door shut and lights out – and the Carlin children are breaking rules.

Spencer knows it is wrong to feel this good, but she can't help it.

She squeezes Glen's hand in excitement and he only shakes his head at her, tugging her along streets that look so familiar in the daytime but are brand new and interesting in this nighttime realm.

Cars that she is sure she has seen a million times look more sleek and magical with just the moon to show them off and Spencer can almost understand why boys are so enamored of them – smooth metal and shiny chrome, modern beasts of the wild…

She is not known for waxing poetic, but this is an adventure and Spencer is hard-pressed to remain neutral and staid.

And she wonders what Ashley is doing, all the way on the west coast, right this very second.

She's been doing that a lot lately, wondering what Ashley is doing and wondering if it matches up to what she herself has been doing – _do her eyes take in the sunrise and feel better for it? Does she laugh about the same things I do? Does she think of me in this way… or is this just my…_

Spencer almost says 'affliction' in her own head, the word choice troubling her – but she had no time to ponder it, because Glen is knocking on a door and they are being let in by some tousled-headed boy with glasses.

Ricky Tremain, someone she has seen a couple of times at home – Glen and Ricky, throwing the football and talking about girls – and never outside of that, is here and welcoming them in.

Ricky's eyes seem heavy to Spencer and he lets them linger over her chest a little too long, before grinning at the two of them.

"Glen, your sister is here!"

"Yea, man, wants to hear some Deltones."

"Right on, **Sister** Carlin…"

And Ricky laughs and Glen kind of joins him and Spencer isn't sure what the joke is about – but then again, she isn't paying full attention to the two boys. Instead, she is wondering where Ricky's parents are and if they are going to get caught and… _what is that smell in here?_

*

On the west coast, Ashley is playing the piano at Steven Edward's house and she is well on her way to being drunk – her fingers still work seamlessly and her ability to grasp notes is still sharp - but her mind is somewhat foggy and her smile is lazy to everyone who sits beside her or requests a certain song (_Hound Dog or Can't Buy Me Love so far_).

But she just keeps on playing little nonsensical tunes, made-up little things that flutter into her head and then back out again.

Or she plays 'Frenzy', some song her dad used to pluck out on his guitar when she was younger and she would giggle at the exaggerated why he would sing it to her, all mad faces and goofy sounds.

On the piano, it is not quite the same.

She needs a guitar to join her or it just sounds flat.

She plays it anyway, though, chuckling to herself when she recalls a father's sense of humor and a girl's pure joy.

And it is a gift, this love of music, something her father has handed down to her and something she cherishes – it has kept her warm when nights were long and cold, it has kept her safe when it seemed like the world was out to get her.

Kyla likes music and always screams over a good record, but Kyla is just having fun.

Ashley is beginning to think that music is the one thing in her own life that she takes seriously.

School never made a dent in her consciousness and dating was just a waste of time, the two things that most girls her age dreamed of and dreaded every night of their lives.

But not Ashley – once again, the thumb sticking out in a crowd of fists.

As if conjuring the girl up, Kyla drifts in – all three sheets to the wind and grinning and plops her body down beside Ashley and drops her head upon Ashley's shoulder.

"What's that you're playin'?"

And it is funny to Ashley, because she isn't quite sure what it is she is playing out so softly.

It sounds familiar and it sounds like something big and sweeping.

She stutters against the keys a couple of times, but catches up to lost chords easily enough.

"I don't know."

Kyla just nods her head, a hiccup or two follows and then the girl looks over at Ashley – eyes bloodshot and determined.

"Jimmy and I are over."

"Why's that?"

"Just 'coz. I don't **like** him."

"That's why you kiss him then, because you don't like him?"

"I was bored, Ash."

"I get bored all the time, Ky. Don't see me getting all kissy-kissy with dull boys."

"I know. Why is that?"

"Why is what?"

Ashley looks over at her sister then, not sure she is keeping up with the conversation like she should.

She is still playing, though, hands on automatic.

Kyla blinks a few times and leans into Ashley more, whiffs of alcohol hitting Ashley's face and she cannot distinguish the scent from the taste in her own mouth.

"How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Play without looking?"

"Don't know."

Kyla looks away then, swaying just a little – from drink or to the music, Ashley is not sure – and the girl gets up, grabbing some boy's hand and pulling him into a one-way dance.

Ashley starts playing a little more loudly, garnering a few glances in her direction, and suddenly she knows what this tune is and where it came from and who created it.

And the knowledge makes her play it more broadly, beer and bravery mixing together, stumbles glossed over and smile blossoming on her face.

It's Chopin.

And letters are floating through her mind, words and words and words about everything.

And imaginings of a girl many miles away, what this girl's face might look like and what her voice might sound like.

And Ashley is really playing now, not bothering with the other people around her who are staring or silent or too drunk to care – Ashley is playing this for Spencer Carlin, wherever the girl is tonight.

*

"I liked that last one."

"What's that, squirt?"

"The last one, the one where it was all, you know…" And Spencer trails off, not really forgetting where she is going with this thought, just misplacing it somehow.

It doesn't seem to matter, though.

She is just happy to be walking around at night with her brother.

"She was right. It sounds like the ocean."

"Who was right?"

"Ashleeeeyyyy…"

Just saying that name made Spencer grin. And when Spencer grins, it is hard not to do the same.

Her mother called it 'infectious' and Spencer wasn't sure how that was a good thing – _isn't influenza infectious, too_?

"Who's that?"

"Who's what?"

"Ashleeeeyyyy…" And Glen smiles, pitching his voice higher and bumping Spencer's shoulder lightly.

"My friend out west. She likes surf music."

"Sounds like a top friend then, squirt."

"**Don't** call me that."

And Spencer finishes with her tongue stuck out and a slap to Glen's arm as they weave their way to the house, all closed up and quiet with its doors and its shutters.

"Glen!" She whispers loudly as she opens the door and he puts the palm of his hand over her mouth.

"Shhh, Spence!" He hisses at her and she tries rolling her eyes, but they seem reluctant to do anything other than shutting or drifting shut.

And he guides her body along, which is a good thing – she feels so light and so airy, she feels like she could just rise up into the air and fly.

He steps into her bedroom, pushing the door to – but not shutting it - and turns her around to face him, the two of them sleepily smiling at one another.

"You'll sleep later than normal, squi—err, Spence, don't worry. I'll cover for ya."

"Okay."

"And **don't** tell Mom or Dad a thing."

"Okay."

"Now, go on and sleep it off, sis."

Before he can leave, she grabs his hand and whispers loudly and she misses the way his eyes glare at her for being too noisy. Again.

"Who did the last one?"

"What are you—"

"The last song, I want to tell Ashley all about it, Glen…"

"The Ventures."

"Riiiight… good, now I can tell her about it."

"**Great**. G'night, Spence."

And Glen retreats to his room. And Spencer hums her way to her bed, not bothering to take off her clothes and change into her pajamas.

She feels warm and content, like she is one long dream and it is a nice one.

She doesn't remember ever feeling like this before, not even as she sat in Ricky's lounge and listened to Dick Dale.

But, at some point, she noticed the thinnest layer of smoke at the top of the room and then she forgot about it as soon as she saw it.

And Ricky laughed a lot, tapped his knees a lot in time with the drums.

And Glen stared at the record spinning a lot, grinning some of the time and serious some of the time.

And Spencer, she just sank further and further into Ricky's brown leather chair, which didn't look comfortable but was turning out to be quite comfy.

She really latched on to the last tune that Ricky chose, learning some terms as she divided her ears to music and to talk – 'riffs', guitars playing fast and distinctive… and this one made her think of waves, beautiful white-n-blue waves she had never seen and it made her think of Ashley Davies.

Ashley Davies with her brown eyes on the beach, seeing the waves that Spencer knows these songs are about.

And that new feeling comes back to her gut (_a rush, a racing, a sick and grand feeling_), happily beating along with 'Pipeline', swimming up and down her spine and Spencer sighs out loud – she sighs out loud and wishes with everything in her that Ashley wasn't so far away.

And before she can stop herself, before sleep can finally claim her, Spencer is writing a letter.

*

_Dear Ashley,_

_I heard him, Dick Dale, and it was great._

_The Ventures, that's what Glen called them, they were better. I saw waves, __your__ waves in my head, and I just fell in love with it all._

_I'm not sure what I am saying, you know, but I just adore you…_

*

Spencer looks at the letter and feels something tugging at her lungs, air refusing to come out and she shudders a little – not sure what is going on and not sure she wants it and not sure she want to stop it either.

Her mind is hazy and she is so tired, but Spencer Carlin is aware of one thing – this might be the most important letter she'll ever write.

*

…_Oh, Ashley, I really __really __do._

_Talk soon, I hope. But keep writing, okay???_

_Spencer_

*

TBC

**Author's Note:**

**Just wanted to thank all of you who have reviewed and I am glad you all are enjoying it.**

**Though you might like to have some of the music that is mentioned in this story (and some that will be mentioned at some point in the story)… I listen to it while writing on this fic.**

**Just send me a PM and I'll pass the tunes along to you. ******

**Thanks again for reading!**


	8. A Hard Day's Night

Though she learned later on that her mother checked in on her at some point, wondering if her 'little girl was coming down with a cold' and that must have Glen snuck in even earlier than their own mother, leaving a little note in her hand (_'tell mom you've got a headache or something'_) and tossed the comforter over her sprawled form – Spencer just kept on sleeping.

She had so many dreams, the kind of dreams that seem incredibly vivid and important as you slumber, but then rush away the moment you start to open your eyes.

And she slowly pushes herself up from the bed, taking in her wrinkled clothes (_I'll have to iron these out myself, otherwise mother will ask too many questions_) and then she reads Glen's note, which she doesn't fully understand but decides that it might be best to follow her brother's advice – because she isn't sure how they even got home and that worries her, just a tiny bit.

And then Spencer sees familiar blue stationary on the floor, with the fine dips and curves of her own handwriting standing out in black ink.

She has written of Dick Dale and The Ventures, which causes her to recall rollicking good music that painted the most perfect picture of the ocean and of the warm sand and Spencer remembers that moment in bit of a haze – Ricky's lounge and some laughter and music and her smile wide and happy and all Spencer wanted was for Ashley Davies to be there with them.

And she wrote so much more, not in amount – _this is not a letter, really, just barely over the length of Glen's sentence to me_ – but in content, in what Spencer evidently wanted to share… it is a lot.

It's not like what she wrote is untrue, because it is the honest to goodness truth and blunt and emotional – and Spencer feels flush, warmth going over her cheeks and seeping down into her chest, making each beat of her heart just a little more pronounced.

'…_but I just adore you…'_

This is going beyond asking about eye color and wanting to speak to the girl on the west coast and Spencer knows this – she just isn't sure what it means **exactly** and why it makes her feel this way (_topsy-turvy, out of my head, giddy and so scared_) and, especially, if she should actually put this in the post and let Ashley know any of this.

"What is going on, God?"

Spencer has always talked to God, raised for so long to believe that God is your one true friend and that He guides you to the best path to traverse, and this is no different now.

And she never fears asking questions, never considers this to be a fact to hide or feel self-conscious over. But today, on her bed and long past morning, Spencer Carlin is whispering past her ceiling and to the skies, hoping for some kind of answer – needing an answer to why Ashley Davies is…

"Why do I adore her? What are these… feelings?"

Because she has friends, many of them – from girls in the church choir to her fellow students – and she cares for them all, cherishes her time with each and every one of them.

But she knows, and has known from almost that first communication, that Ashley was not going to be just a pen-pal or just a friend – Ashley was going to be something more.

Spencer doesn't know what the 'more' is, though.

And that's what frightens her... at least, that's what she keeps telling herself, because she is starting to wonder, just a bit – every now and then – _if what I am feeling is_…

She blinks rapidly as her thoughts are interrupted by the crooning coming up the stairwell, a voice carrying from the hi-fi downstairs and drifting underneath Spencer's door – reminding the girl that she is not alone in this house and that she has to get up sometime (_got to pretend I've had a headache, too_).

After changing and washing her face, Spencer softly descends the stairs, Brenda Lee's sweet song of lost love getting louder and louder.

"…_yes, I still have my friends…but I don't have you…"_

And there are her parents, dancing at the edge of the den, smiling every so often and moving slow and Spencer sits down on the steps, not making a single sound to disturb them.

They once told her and Glen about how they met, just to humor two nosy children at a young age and Spencer always thought it was romantic (_love at first sight and a winter formal_).

And they still look the part to her young and romanticizing mind – dancing and happy and in love.

They look like nothing else matters, just the two of them, and that they share every secret… every dream… every hope…

Spencer lowers her head to one of the balusters and closes her eyes, her insides alternately dancing and sinking, because all her fears are terribly founded and she knows it is wrong (_so very __**very**__ wrong_) and she feels nothing will ever be the same again.

Because the letter in her hand is still true and Spencer Carlin is afraid that all these feelings for Ashley are just the beginning of something much more far-reaching, something much more revealing about herself – answers resting, and waiting, in her heart.

And God, for the first time in her life, is silent.

*

Ashley and Kyla almost stumbled into one another in the hallway, one girl looking tired (_but mostly sober_) and the other girl looking tired (_and a little green around the gills_).

Kyla wraps herself around Ashley's body and then whined into Ashley's ear.

"**God**, why does he have to do that so loudly?"

"Because it's Saturday—"

"—'and it's a day off from the grindstone, time to let loose', yea, I've heard his speech… but so loud, Ash… it's **so** loud…"

"That's the beer talking, Ky. Get some aspirin. Go back to sleep."

"Why aren't you in pain?"

"I don't know. Guess I can handle my booze better than you."

"I'd disagree, but I feel sick to my stomach…"

Ashley disengages herself quickly from Kyla's body and ignores her sister's whimper for sympathy.

And their father keeps on playing, adding chords and slowing things down even further during the singing part, trying hard to emulate Hank Williams western twang.

_And failing, god is he failing…_

Ashley sits down first, leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs, and soon Kyla joins her – holding her head and looking miserable, but Kyla stays there and scoots bit by bit until she can lean against Ashley.

When Ashley was five and Kyla was four, they were playing on the beach and building sandcastles and being silly – but Kyla got too rambunctious and fell into one fortress of sand and Ashley yelled at the girl.

They didn't talk the rest of the day and their parents dragged them home, both of them giving a stern lecture to Ashley about 'not treating her little sister like that, you have to protect her'.

Ashley, in all her five-year-old wisdom, didn't understand why **she** had to protect anyone, much less Kyla.

It was Kyla that destroyed **her** castle and acted like a baby all the time. It was Kyla that got in the way, always coming into **her** room and trying on **her** clothes and being a pest.

And for a long time, Ashley kept on believing in this determination of why she didn't have to care about her sister at all.

But time shifts and alters things and the more their parents fought, the more those old barriers fell down and they became closer. They still fight, but they make up quickly.

They are, for all intents and purposes, the only family they've got.

Christine, with her drinks and her social standing concerns, cares little for them – unless they can somehow showcase the woman herself.

And their father, good-intentioned, always looks like he is two steps from just leaving sometimes.

So, Ashley – though she doesn't want Kyla to upchuck all over her – doesn't make her sister move.

She just rubs the girl's back absentmindedly and they continue to listen to their father's warbling.

"What are you doing today?"

"Dunno. Maybe going out with Aiden."

"Can I come?"

"Yea, sure."

"He is really good-looking, Ash."

"Yea, I know."

"Is… he your steady?"

"Uh, no, not really."

"Why not?"

Ashley doesn't know how to answer her sister and she wonders if, somehow, Kyla senses this – if this is why she is peppering Ashley with questions about Spencer and boys and, now, Aiden.

She doesn't want to appear unnerved, but her body tenses without her permission and she clears her throat, trying to figure out how to brush Kyla off – again.

It is Christine's sharp comment that saves Ashley's skin this time, not directed toward either of them but to their father.

"Could you **please** stop that racket? It's too early for your hobby."

"Maybe you should have another drink, darling. Makes you so much more interesting."

"God, Raife, you can be so droll…"

But Christine is already mixing another drink, tossing down the latest issue of Vogue, and their father is already strumming more music, louder this time and pitching his voice to carry better (_and, of course, to annoy_).

Ashley would side with her father every time, much to Christine's chagrin, but it gets tiresome to do it all the time. It gets tiresome to always be in the middle of a war.

"I need to get out of here." Ashley grumbles and gets up quick, not paying attention to Kyla as she topples over and then scrambles to get up.

"Let me take something for this head, okay, Ash? Then I'll be ready before you know it…"  
"It's fine, take your time. I'm going on to the beach."  
"How am I supposed to get there?"

"Aiden can take you."

"…Wait, what, isn't he taking you?"

But Ashley is already in her room, door shut and going to her phone – calling Aiden up and dissuading him from their usual Saturday ritual, not allowing herself the realization that she just basically barked orders out to him and that she shouldn't treat a friend like that – but she pushes that away.

Because she doesn't want to be at home and she doesn't want to even be around Aiden or Kyla, not today. She'd rather be alone today, with her thoughts and such.

But she can't leave Kyla here, because that protective streak finally kicked in several years ago.

And she can't cut Aiden loose, though it might be for the best – especially for the boy, who still carries a torch for Ashley and doesn't seem to be able to extinguish it.

But he is her friend and she craves friendship, no matter how hard she acts like it doesn't matter… she wants someone to tell everything to, to share everything with and be close to – and while Aiden doesn't fit all of those boxes, he'll do in a pinch.

Ashley sees herself in the mirror, bathing suit on and one of her father's button-down shirts, open, and thinks that this is as close to who she really is and everything else – the dresses and church and drinking and this house – that's the lie.

_Aiden and boys… that's the lie, isn't it? That's the biggest lie of all._

Like clockwork during her introspective musings of this topic, there is Spencer Carlin in Ashley's mind. It used to be Carol and regret. Now it is a girl in Ohio and letters and a pocket of happiness in an otherwise dull world.

And Ashley picks up her new favorite pastime, wondering what Spencer is up to and when the next missive will arrive and when will they actually talk to one another – and it calms her down just about as good as the waves crashing onto the shore, but still causes her heart to literally race and batter against her bones – in a good way, in a scary way – and Ashley wouldn't trade this contradiction for all the gold in China.

She can shut out her parents bickering and she can forget Kyla's questions and her own worries – all because of thinking about one person and how neat said person is.

Freddie Scott comes on her radio as she cruises down the highway and Ashley sings softly along, the breeze fluttering through her loose hair.

And she wonders if Spencer likes this song, too…

"…_if this is good-bye, ohhhhh ohh ohhhh… hey girl, this can't be true… how am I supposed to exist without you…"_

*

Spencer sent the letter, but not before sending a prayer to up above – for guidance and for care in this moment, her most brave moment of all time… and she hastily put her phone number down at the bottom of the blue stationary, opening the door to whatever this is between herself and a girl in California.

Two weeks to the day, Ashley gets a letter and reads it in the solitude of her bedroom, hands shuddering and a thundering smile breaking out on her face – before racing down the stairs and to the main room and to the phone, ready to open the door to whatever this is between herself and Spencer Carlin.

*

TBC


	9. I Saw Her Standing There

It is rare to be in the house and neither parent is there – but Arthur Carlin has to work late and Paula Carlin is helping out at the food drive at their church – so the Carlin siblings find themselves with a good hour or more of free time.

Which Glen is capitalizing on quickly, eating a piece of chocolate cake and discussing the merits of the Colts this year with Ricky, hi-fi blasting out 'Wake Up Little Susie', and Spencer is perusing her father's copy of _The Man In the High Castle _by Phillip K. Dick, on her stomach and on the floor of the den.

For the longest time, the only book Spencer knew was the Bible – its thin and brittle pages full of hope and fear – and she didn't think about all the other things out there to read.

But as girls mentioned juicy bits of the newest book moving around the school halls, Spencer got curious. And her curiosity led her to Arthur Carlin's book collection, stacked high on their one bookcase in the house.

It was one of the few allowances Spencer let occur in her life – the first rule she ever broke, reading a page or two when she could of what her mother considered 'scandalous text'.

Of course, her mother never did say such things to her father – which was always odd to Spencer.

_Why condemn with one breath and forgive with another_?

'It's Late' comes on now, fine slip of wax with music somehow cut into the grooves dropping down and the needle lands.

Ricky hollers from the kitchen, as he always does when this song comes on, and even Spencer can't help but smile. Glen and Ricky start singing along with Mr. Nelson and she finds her own voice softly singing along, too.

"…it's late, we gotta get on home, its late, we've been gone too long…" All three voices hitting different pitches and different levels, all singing the same words and Spencer's smile grows by leaps and bounds… and she thinks of Ashley Davies. **Again**.

If the song is good, she thinks of Ashley. If the song is bad, she thinks of Ashley. If she finds something amusing, she thinks of Ashley. If she finds something sad, she thinks of Ashley.

If her mother is being too stern or her brother too annoying, she thinks of Ashley Davies – out there in California, on a beach and with brown eyes on the endless ocean…

It is becoming a habit to think constantly of Ashley, all at once frustrating and enthralling to Spencer's newly awakened mind – a mind that is awash with thoughts about another girl.

And as much as this troubles her (_if my mother ever found out, she'd send me away!_), it also brings her great satisfaction, a rare sensation that Spencer never even knew she was missing.

As if her whole life, up until this past summer, was somehow incomplete and… now…

_I feel like something makes sense now. Like __**I**__ make sense now._

'Deep Purple' is cascading throughout the house, another 45 from the stack, and Spencer is lost in a daydream when Glen yells in her ear, causing her heart to beat double-time and causing Glen's body to break out in laughter.

"Oh, Squirt… your **face**!" Glen crows and Spencer hops up fast, pushing him as hard as she can.

"Stop calling me that, Glen!"

"When you stop being younger than me, I will."

"Ha ha ha, Glen, you're a real riot…" Spencer mumbles, snatching the book from the floor and fully intending to march upstairs to her bedroom – but what Glen says next stops her cold.

"Hey, I just wanted to tell you that some girl named Ashley is on the horn for ya, Squirt."

_Ashley. As in… Ashley Davies? On __**my**__ phone? I mean, on __**the**__ phone? I don't know any other girl named Ashley… do I? Oh my goodness, she's called… she's on the phone right now! And… what am I doing? I can't keep her waiting like this, she'll think I am a total goof…_

Spencer walks past Glen and then past Ricky, into the kitchen and sees the phone resting against the table-top. And the song is almost over on the hi-fi, sweet and hazy lyrics surely carrying over the receiver and to Ashley Davies ears.

"…_you will wander on back to me, breathing my name with a sigh… here in my deep purple dream…"_

Spencer clears her throat and is, unknowingly, clutching her father's book to her chest like a shield and her breathing is erratic and the song is so loud now – a really loud and really auspicious love song…

_Please, God, don't let me be silly during this conversation. I'm __**begging**__ you._

"…Hello?"

"Is this Spencer?"

It's a voice she has never heard and, yet, has tried to conjure up a million times – wondering if it would be high or low, soft or brash, would it be the kind of voice that revealed everything or would it be the kind of voice that is a mystery to everyone?

Now that she is hearing it, actually hearing Ashley's voice, Spencer inhales deeply and tries (_quite unsuccessfully_) to contain her absolute joy at this very moment.

Ashley's voice is kind of rough, in a pleasant way, the sound of wind cutting through leaves or the sound of someone you've missed coming home – wheels on gravel – but it is still a warm sound, honeyed tones that will surely linger in Spencer's mind for the rest of her days.

"Yes… yes, it is, this is Spencer…" She breathes out, finally finding her feet on the ground again and capable of speaking.

"And is that Nino and April in the background?"

"Um, yes it is…"

"Don't tell a soul, Spencer, but I actually **like** that song. If anyone knows, I'll get kicked out of the 'cool kid' club… promise me you won't tell anyone?"

And Spencer settles fully now, because this is Ashley – her pen-pal and the girl she thinks is amazing – and while she is still a little nervous (_about all of this_), she is excited more so.

Excited and pleased and over-the-moon about Ashley Davies.

"I promise."

*

The first thing she does is look to see where her parents are – not that they would particularly care what she was doing and not that she didn't have a phone in her bedroom if she required complete privacy… but she is nervous, more nervous than any time ever before, and standing downstairs – in the spacious den, with the big bay window that opens up to their manicured lawn – that's where Ashley needs to be to make this first phone call to Spencer Carlin.

It is familiar and somewhat quiet and it is safe – it's where Kyla and she fight over the television and where they have poured over many a movie magazine, it is where her father strums his guitar and her mother entertains guests – and it gives Ashley a courage that enthusiasm cannot.

Because she is simply smitten with a girl she's never even met (_which is just bonkers_) and Ashley doesn't know how to stop her feelings from just bubbling up… and in her bedroom, where it is comfortable and with all her records… she would just blurt things out.

_And I can't do that, not yet… maybe not ever… I just can't be reckless, not with Spencer…_

Then she listens closely for any sign of Kyla being around, knowing that her sister would jump on the chance to eavesdrop on this conversation and bother Ashley with a million **more** questions about Spencer.

But the house is silent – which is a rarity – and Ashley decides that Kyla is out with friends on this day.

_Or maybe she is with Aiden_, Ashley thinks with a small grin.

Their joint outing to the beach consisted of Kyla blushing and giggling and Aiden preening and reveling in a pretty girl paying him attention on a Saturday.

And even though it could have been weird, it wasn't – it seemed like the way things should go, cutting one kind of tie and a new one forming in its place.

Kyla kept darting worried glances at Ashley, as if she might blow up and make a scene.

But the two of them – a good friend and a sweet sister – were far from Ashley's mind.

She was watching the waves and smiling and thinking of Ohio – some far-flung state with forests and a couple of rolling hills (_encyclopedias and public libraries are good for something after all_), a place as removed from California as the moon… and it holds all of Ashley interest these days.

She dials the numbers, one by one, and holds her breath.

A boy answers, sounding like his mouth is full and she can pick up the sounds of music in the background.

"Glen Carlin speaking."

"Is Spencer at home?"

"Who's this?"

"Um, this is Ashley…"

And then, even more muffled, she hears this guy (_Spencer's brother, that's her brother_) say 'hold on Ricky, Squirts got a call' and then mostly silence follows – silence punctuated with the distant rhythms of… _I think that's Nino Tempo and April Stevens_…

Ashley allows herself to breathe for a few seconds, air filling up her lungs once more in relief, and she takes note that her body is tight as a drum – she is held rigid and unmoving by the wall, phone pressed to her ear so hard that it will probably leave an imprint.

_God, Ashley Davies, calm down… it's just a talk, no big deal… _

But there it is – sinking onto her skin like it was sunlight – warm and relaxing, the best day on the shore paling in comparison. No waves of crystal blue can beat it. No hours spent sun-bathing can match it.

And she wonders if even music, the way notes fix and form and turn into beautiful songs, can get close to how amazing Spencer Carlin's voice sounds rushing into Ashley's head.

Of course, since the notion of talking on the phone came up, she has thought about how the girl in Ohio would sound – would her voice reflect a life of Sunday school? Or would it be surprising, more like rock-n-roll than hymnals? Would it be as good as the letters written, just as open and just as beloved?

_It is all of this and more, though… she sounds __**divine**__…_

They start out slow, introductions as a way to find their footing with one another, and Ashley does what she does best – she jokes about the song she can hear and Spencer plays along.

And when the girl laughs, softly over the line, Ashley has to place her hand against the wall – palm flush with something solid, something stable to hold her up.

"Good, good… I didn't call at a bad time, did I?"

"Oh no, goodness no! I, uh, well… uh, nevermind…"

"You what?"

"I, um, kind of wondered when you might call… you know, since we've exchanged numbers and all."

"I got your letter today."

Ashley almost smacks herself for saying that, thinking it might sound… _eager? God, I am too eager and she'll just flip out_—but Spencer's voice (_that completely amazing voice_) interrupts her internal chastising.

"Really? Did you like it? The letter, I mean… am I making sense at all?" And Spencer laughs a little more, this time at herself, and Ashley finds her own lips forming an understanding smile.

_We are both nervous as all get out._

"I like all your letters, really and truly. And, uh, this one was especially nice…"

"It was?"

"Yea, really nice."

"That's good."

Spencer almost whispers her response, but Ashley catches it – and revels in it.

Because Spencer's voice is the kind that can't hide a thing and it isn't hiding right now, giving Ashley a glimpse into deeper meanings, the things not being said with words but that are there nonetheless.

Ashley clears her throat a little and finally relaxes, leaning against the wall and tilting her head back.

"You liked The Ventures more than Dick Dale?"

"Oh, yes, yes I did. 'Pipeline' is a lot of fun… do all bands that play surf music **actually** surf?"

"They have to, it's the law."

Spencer laughs again and Ashley finds that to be as good a reason as any to continue making cracks.

"Well, what about people who just listen to surf music?" Spencer asks almost teasingly and Ashley happily responds in kind.

"Of course, them most of all!"

"Can't picture Glen surfing. He can barely doggie-paddle."

"Can **you** swim?"

"Sure can. I can cross the lake faster than any other girl. Faster than plenty of the boys, too."

"I'm impressed."

"As well you should be."

And they both laugh now, the sound of their humor mixing together and Ashley decides – right then and there – that she could get used to Spencer Carlin being in her life for a long time.

*

Spencer and Ashley talk about all the things they usually do in their letters – they talk about music (_The Rolling Stones and Marvin Gaye and, without fail, The Beatles_) and they talk about their parents (_rules recently broken and regulations begrudgingly followed_) and they ask a ton of questions (_What is your school like? Do you drive? Have you ever…? Did you see…?_)

And Spencer feels all aglow inside, immersed in the pleasant rumblings of something she had only seen on the silver screen and had only read in the pages of hidden prose up 'til now and Spencer knows this feeling - this lively heartbeat in her chest and this fluttering smile upon her lips – it is all Ashley Davies fault and Spencer doesn't want it to ever end.

_This is love, isn't it, God? _

And Ashley could stay talking to Spencer until the end of time, only cutting the conversation short because she can hear Kyla's voice barreling in the back-door – something about bags and shopping and another voice is joining in.

But this was enough (_for now, god knows I'll need more Spencer soon_) to cement the inkling she had from almost the get-go, the subconscious knowledge that Ashley had about this girl from Ohio - who knew nothing of Bob Dylan or how the waves sound crashing onto the sand – this Spencer from Ohio is going to be the girl that Ashley loves for life.

_That's what it is, isn't it? It's love…_

"I've got to go…"

"Oh, okay."

"I'm gonna write you tonight."

"You better, we are pen-pals afterall…"

Laughing once more before both girls hang up the phone, at the same time because neither of them want to go… not just yet… but sisters are coming in the door and parents will be home soon and brothers still lurk around, playing music loud…

And they both know that this is just the first call of many.

*

TBC


	10. All My Loving

August turns to September and then so on and so on – school and friends and homework back to the forefront, but Ashley always finds time to place calls to Ohio and Spencer always finds the time to send letters to California. Their correspondence with one another might be slightly hindered as autumn brings familiar responsibilities – Spencer with the cheering squad, with studies and with Ashley busily **avoiding** academic pursuits of all kinds, opting to sneak into beatnik cafes on the strip instead – but each time they interact, whether with pen or with phones… it is somehow more intense. Their conversations stray from everyday topics and they dip toes into the deep-end of the pool.

From how they feel about their respective futures to how they feel about the world at large, from the dreams that they share with no one else to those things that both of them almost say… but neither of them have the courage to speak of, letting it hang about their heads at the end of each phone-call or each paragraph…

But it doesn't stop how Ashley feels, the build-up in her very bones with every passing day that she spends thinking of Spencer.

And it doesn't stop how Spencer feels, the way her lips always turn up and stay in a dreamy grin practically every moment – because every moment is one filled with thoughts of Ashley.

*

It is the annual Halloween party that Ashley's parents throw, where the two Davies daughters are allowed to be present ('_only an hour, girls, only an hour – parents need to play, too'_).

Kyla, as she is every October 31st, is a witch – the good kind or so the girl says – all sparkle and lightness, bright red lips in a permanent grin.

Ashley gets less inventive as each year goes by, her days of being a ghost or a princess long gone, and this year finds her in a bathing suit and a bored expression.

Not even Kyla swiping abandoned glasses of wine or Rob Roy's, the two of them passing the alcohol back and forth – sip for sip – isn't enough to make this party fun to Ashley Davies.

_I can watch my parents get blotto any night, _Ashley thinks as she herself gets more and more drunk with her sister – watching with amusement as the girl's lipstick gets smeared and becomes less 'witchy' and just plain comical.

Miles and miles and miles away, in Ohio, Spencer Carlin is the fifth angel on the right at their church. Paula Carlin doesn't like Halloween, finds it too supportive of 'sinful activities, like children toilet papering houses' and so the Carlin siblings are shoved into the frankincense-scented rafters of the Church of the Blessed Sacrament and coaxed to perform acts from the Bible.

Glen, as usual, has other plans once their familial duty is carried out and – for the first time – Spencer is extremely envious.

She has been bugging him off-and-on all day, trying to figure out what he was up to once their parents settled in for the evening, and her brother has kept tight-lipped.

_It's so frustrating!_, Spencer thinks as she raises her hands upward and in pleading to God, but her head is filled up with her new-found freedom – and how Glen is the key to said freedom.

"Darn it all…" She mutters as the lights go back up and reveal the happy faces of every staid religious family in town.

*

_November 1, 1964_

_Dear Ashley,_

_Gosh, what a dull Halloween I had! I got to bob for apples at school, but I'd like to go out like other girls my age for once. Glen disappeared and didn't offer to take me along this time… he gets to have all the fun…_

_Did you have a good Halloween? I hope you did. I wanted to call you so bad… It's hard to get a moment to myself at home and… maybe it doesn't make sense or anything, but I'd rather talk to you and not be bothered._

_Does that make sense?_

_I must sound silly. Anyway, I know you'll be calling me next Saturday and I can't wait!_

_Sincerely,_

_Spencer_

_p.s. – And if you wore a costume for Halloween, you better tell me, Ashley Davies! No secrets from your dearly denied pen-pal… ha ha!_

*

"You always make sense to me, you know?"

"I guess so. I just always think I sound so… so…"

"Silly?"

"You came up with that pretty quick…"

"Hey, I'm just quoting you!"

Spencer chuckles and cradles the phone against her ear, sitting on the floor of the kitchen with her legs stretched out before her.

It might not seem too comfortable to anyone else, but Spencer is exactly where she wants to be – chilly linoleum floor and all – because it is her call with Ashley and nothing could make that bad.

Arthur Carlin is discussing the blades of their lawn cutter with the mechanic across town and Paula Carlin is playing her every-other-weekend game of bridge – and who knows where Glen Carlin is… _could be with Ricky, could be anywhere really… _

Her brother has been more and more secretive lately, which left Spencer in a little funk – feeling left out of the fun, again.

"You still there, Spence?"

Hearing Ashley calling her by a nickname just about causes Spencer's heart to burst and that grin comes back full force to her face.

"Still here, Ash. Just thinkin'."

"'Bout what?"

"Glen and how he won't take me along these days."

"Maybe he has a girlfriend and is keeping it secret."

"I'd keep it secret, too. Who'd want to date **him**?"

Ashley laughs loudly and that grin just gets bigger (_which is hard to imagine, it is already huge!_) on Spencer's face. Ashley told her once that 'no one, not a single soul in all of California, is as funny as you are, Spencer' and the girl from Ohio cherishes that compliment, keeping it close in her memory and pulling it up whenever she feels low.

"I don't know, Spence. He **does** like good music, must be some gal in Ohio hip enough to like him… besides you, you know…"

The tail-end of Ashley's comment is soft and unassuming, a tone that Spencer is getting more and more used to when they talk – the boisterousness dissipates and is replaced by something akin to shyness and it happens at least once in every talk they have… and Spencer knows it is important, that tone and those words…

_You are letting me know, aren't you, Ashley? You are telling me so much and I can only __**hope**__ to do the same… so that you can know exactly how you make me feel… which is brilliant and giddy and special…_

_You make me feel whole, Ashley Davies and I am doing my best to let you know it._

"So, Ash…"

"Yessss?"

"I bet I can guess what you were for Halloween."

"Give it your best shot, Miss Carlin."

"An angel?"

"Nope."

"The devil?"

"Oh, I'm that **every** day, Spence…"

Spencer continues to guess and Ashley continues to reply in the negative, with the both of them laughing a lot along the way.

And Spencer never does get the right costume, but by the end of their call, it doesn't really matter.

*

_November 17, 1964_

_Spencer,_

_Of course, we talked about this… but I didn't ever tell you what I dressed up as for Halloween._

_I didn't really get a costume. I just wore my bathing suit._

_I don't know, I just didn't see the point in getting all excited over my parents' party where people just drink too much and talk about boring things… _

_Kyla was a witch for the millionth time._

_I wish you had called me. Would have made the night so much better! _

_But I understand about privacy and all that, believe me… Don't ever think you are silly, Spence. _

_You aren't, you know… you are so far from silly, really and truly…_

_Or, you know, if you are feeling silly, we can be silly together! Sound good?_

_Ashley_

_p.s. – Talk to you during our Thanksgiving break!_

*

The Carlin clan, plus distant cousins and barely remembered family friends, all gather around the table – with kids (_little and not so little_) in the den and their plates of food on their laps – heads bowed in prayer.

Soon, it is the scrape of knives and forks against good chinaware and conversation.

There is talk of sports and of politics, of recipes and of sermons.

It is a typical family reunion for the Carlins.

_Well, almost typical… _Spencer muses as she eats and watches the girl sitting beside her brother.

Ashley had been right (_and boy, she'll rub that in!_) after all – Glen did have a girlfriend and that's why he had been so sneaky lately.

All red-haired and green-eyed, Lori is quite the striking girl, and Glen seems pleased as punch to have the girl there by his side. He looks positively goofy.

And Spencer wonders if that is how she looks when she is on the phone with Ashley.

_Is it that obvious? Am __**I**__ that obvious?_

She had been surprisingly content with these new feelings, even though she knew better than to tell anyone of them. But they caused such warmth in her body – from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet – and she couldn't ever think it to be wrong.

_They aren't wrong… I'm not wrong…_

But Spencer kept silent about it anyway, only capable of acknowledging this emotional discovery within her own mind… _at least, so far_…

"Squirt?"

Spencer blinks and then glares, her face getting a little hot with embarrassment.

"Glen, don't call me that!"

"Oh. Sorry, sorry… I'm getting pie, want some?"

"Fine, yes."

Glen bounds up and heads for the kitchen, leaving Spencer and Lori with each other – not to mention a couple of eight year olds and ten year olds debating super-heroes with cranberry sauce all over their faces (_more random cousins… I think_).

"He's so sweet, your brother…"

"Yea, he's a peach." Spencer mutters and Lori smiles at her kindly, like she just might get the nuances of a brother/sister relationship.

"You got a beau out there?"

"Um, no…"

But it's too late, that darned smile is there and Lori is looking at her knowingly and Spencer feels her stomach fall to the depths of the very ground, far beyond the carpet and the wood… and it isn't a good feeling, not this time…

_I __**am**__ that obvious._

And no amount of pie can distract her from the fact that she wears this affection for Ashley Davies as plainly as one wears their flesh.

And Spencer knows, right now, that this truth is not a good thing.

*

When the lunch turned into an argument, Ashley got up from the table and left – ignoring her mother's disapproval and Kyla's clamoring to tag along – and she drove fast to the beach.

On any other occasion such as this one, she would have called Aiden and they would have hit the surf.

Or talked music. Or slept together.

But Ashley doesn't feel that old urge anymore, at least not for a boy who is a good friend and nothing more than that.

She wants to call Spencer. Hell, she'd just up and pack a bag and drive to the girl… if she could, if that were the smart thing to do…

Not that Ashley Davies is known for restraint. In fact, she is usually quite the opposite – tending to fly off the handle and do as she pleases, consequences of little matter to her.

_Not with you, though, Spencer… with you, I __**want**__ to take my time… _

She loves getting to know Spencer Carlin, the likes and dislikes – the moods and the thoughts and the feelings – everything and anything about Spencer is of the upmost interest to Ashley.

And that's who she wants to call and talk to when things are no good at home, when her parents fight and fight and fight, when Ashley can't even find comfort on the shoreline running up and down California… it is Spencer she wants to listen to and it is Spencer she wants to speak to.

"Damn, I've got it bad, don't I?" Ashley laughs to herself, looking out at the rolling of the waves from her car window while 'I Want To Be Wanted' drifts out of the speakers.

'…_when were apart, I want his heart to really miss me… that's the way I wanna be loved…'_

And Ashley, if she were at the piano or had her father's old guitar with her, would sing along – she would pluck out the notes roughly at first and then smooth them out – changing only part of the song, turning 'his' to 'her'… turning some faceless guy into Spencer…

*

TBC


	11. You Really Got A Hold On Me

She has been to five parties over the past week – all of them filled with dull boys, their pomade thick and their lines tired – but Kyla needed to be in her element… _which is surrounded with the popular and the drunk and the happy-go-lucky set of folks._

And so Ashley was forced to play chaperone – of a sort.

She'd walk in with her sister, snag a beer or two, maybe talk to some girl from her French class or some boy who really likes Chubby Checker… but then she would drift outside, past the couples making-out and sit quietly by herself.

There was a time when this endless stream of frivolity was her thing – back in her first year of high school it was what she was known for. It was the reason her parents decided to try and find the moral high ground in Sunday services and the like, all to try and calm down their eldest Davies child.

Of course, it hasn't took, not one bit.

Sure, Ashley isn't running wild in the streets anymore – hangovers are minimal these days and the parade of boyfriends has stopped completely… but she is still the 'wild' girl, just in different ways.

She still blows off school work and she still turns up her nose at anything that speaks of 'normal' (_school dances, the prom, pep rallies_).

Ashley is still the rebel. Kyla is now the social butterfly.

And Ashley considers this an improvement of status on her own part.

But this is one party she cannot back out of, no matter how much she'd like to.

Her mother is already three sheets to the wind and her father is breaking out his guitar and everyone in their house is in some shade of red… or green… or silver… or all three in a show of Christmas spirit.

Kyla steps around lightly, all a-flutter and batting her eyelashes at men twice her age – Ashley tells her to cut it out, but the girl never listens – not tonight, Christmas Eve, and not on any other day.

Kyla carries around a piece of mistletoe and talks about Prince Charming like he really one of these guys here, cheap suit covering up something nobler.

Ashley just rolls her eyes.

"I thought Aiden was your knight in shining armor, Ky…"

"I don't want to talk about him."

"Oh jeez, what did he do? Forget to open your car door for you?"

"Just **leave** it."

And Kyla actually seems serious, so Ashley backs off – watching her sister more closely now, wondering what might have occurred between her friend and her sibling.

_Not that it is any of my business or anything_…

She had taken note that Aiden and Kyla had been spending lots of time together, which seemed like a good thing. Heck, she'd even given up her Saturday rituals with the boy so as to not stand in the way of true love. _Or whatever it is_.

But Kyla's face – the one Ashley thought to be jovial to the extreme these past few nights – now appears false and that niggles at her protective streak.

'_Coz if Aiden has hurt her, I'll smack him._

She likes Aiden, likes him a lot – he is easy to be around and doesn't annoy her like a lot of other people her age – but boys can be stupid and speak callously. And Kyla, for all her endless energy, is fragile in a lot of ways.

Kyla is the first one to try and stuff down her reactions, always attempting to keep the peace in a family that likes to fall apart – whereas Ashley blows up and stomps around and drives off down the highway for hours on end.

Kyla is the one left behind on many occasions, left to the slamming of doors and to the chilliness that stands in for a home.

Now the protective streak is getting trampled by guilt and Ashley mockingly decides that Christmas has officially arrived for the Davies clan – lies and anger and guilt and alcohol to hang up along with popcorn strings and tinsel.

_Merry Christmas to one and all._

*

_Grandmother Carlin's knitted sweater is nothing compared to this_, Spencer thinks giddily as she shuts the door to her bedroom.

_In fact, this is the best gift I've __**ever **__gotten… _Spencer decides, her smile so wide that it almost hurts.

Her mother, that stickler for rules and that paragon of judgment – the mother that can quote every passage in the Bible, the mother that won't let Glen and Lori talk on the porch for fear of 'sinful temptation', the mother that doesn't like Spencer to listen to any cool music…

This mother decided that it is okay for Spencer to have her own phone, in her own room.

Her father, under the guise of forgetting something upstairs, set it up and her mother allowed a small smile to grace her lips – kind of like the time she took the Carlin children on a surprise trip to the zoo, all secretive and pleased.

But once the cat was out of the bag, Spencer didn't hold back.

She launched herself at her mother and Paula Carlin hugged her daughter back happily, a kiss to the brow and a comment about how '_don't be on that thing every night, okay, Spencer_…'

The rest of the day went by in a blur of gifts and meals and guests. The tree filled the house with the smell of pine and ginger-bread cookies baked in the oven – it was intoxicating and everyone seemed in good spirits, everyone seemed like the best version of themselves.

But all Spencer wanted to do was run up to her bedroom and dial those familiar numbers to California, all she wanted was to hear the voice of Ashley Davies in her ear and drown in it.

So, as the talking became louder and the laughter carried throughout the house, Spencer snuck away.

And she stands here now, next to her bed and at the edge of her desk, looking down at the powder-blue telephone.

"This is the best Christmas ever…" She says aloud, picking up the receiver and dialing quick.

*

"Hello?"

"Um, may I speak with Ashley, please?"

"Who's this?"

"Spencer. Spencer Carlin."

"Oh really? Hi, this is Kyla."

"Oh. Hello…"

"You know, Ashley won't tell me a **thing** about you. I was starting to think you didn't really exist, you know?"

"Well, I do. Exist I mean. Otherwise we wouldn't be talking."

Spencer closes her eyes and wills her mouth to stop moving. Because she didn't expect Kyla to answer. Or anyone else for that matter (_gosh, what kind of fool would I make of myself if it were her mother or father?_).

Kyla's light chuckle floats over the line in response.

"So, what's it like—ow!"

Kyla's voice goes from pleasant to downright testy, punctuated by another voice (_and one that sounds very familiar indeed…_) in the background.

"Give it to me. **Now**." Ashley distinct timbre rings out and Spencer feels that heartbeat in her chest pick up the pace… _as usual_…

"**God**! You are such a—"

"Good-**bye**, Kyla!"

A loud bang is heard and then quiet. Spencer wonders if one of them might have hung-up accidentally, but then Ashley is talking.

"Spence?"

"I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas…"

"Thank you. Merry Christmas to you, too."

And Ashley's voice goes all warm then and Spencer falls right into the tone.

_Oh, I love you Ashley Davies…_

"Sorry 'bout all that. Kyla is such a little snoop."

"It's okay."

"I'm glad you called. Missed talking to you."

"Me too."

They are both quiet then and Spencer thinks that Ashley is doing the same as herself – just soaking it all in, the sound of one another… whether the words they speak or the way they speak those words… and she feels dizzy with it all, wonderfully off-balance and full of love.

It almost happens right then. Spencer almost says it. It tickles her tongue and fills up her throat, it pushes at her teeth with insistence and it is so strong that she fears passing out from it.

But Ashley is talking about Kyla and school and how '_boring these family functions are_'… and the moment passes.

And she listen, greedily, as Ashley talks about everything and anything and fifteen minutes turns to thirty and thirty turns to an hour…

*

All morning was spent bouncing between gifts of competition – Christine going for the most conventional of presents and dear ol'Dad going for whatever would tick off Christine – or Kyla being sulky.

Ashley tried to get the girl to open up, to talk about whatever had occurred with Aiden and all she got in return was aggravated looks.

And Spencer Carlin is always a highlight, but even more so on this day.

Even Kyla trying to fish for information couldn't put a damper on Ashley's happiness at hearing from the girl in Ohio.

And they talk, like they always do, about all things – topics shifting from typical to not-so-typical, focusing a little bit on the gift of a lifetime for Spencer (_and for me, too, 'coz it means more calls __**from**__ Spencer_) – and Ashley doesn't want it to end, not ever.

Each call is slowly, but steadily, solidifying this hold Spencer has over Ashley's heart. Each letter is just creating another reason to fall more and more and Ashley wouldn't stop it – even if she wanted to

_Which I don't, not by a long-shot…_

"Is that the Swingin' Blue Jeans I hear?"

"The who?"

"The Swinging Blue Jeans, doing the Hippy Shake?"

"Sorry, Ash, but no…"

"Let me guess… the **Beatles**?"

"Of course."

"Right, no more of that when you call me, okay? My ears might fall off or something."

"Ha ha. I think you like them, deep down."

"Think again, Spence."

"I've got the Beach Boys. Want me to put that on?"

"Anything is better than the lads."

"**Fine**. Hold on."

A few seconds go by and the shining stars of her home-state are heard.

"…_but she looks in my eyes and makes me realize …when she says…don't worry baby, everything will turn out alright…"_

"I wish I could think like that sometimes… you know? That everything will be okay, that someone can just sit there and tell me life will work out. I've, uh, I've never had that with anyone. No one's ever cared enough."

And Ashley wishes to shut up, not because she can't trust Spencer with personal stuff like this, but because she'd rather stay upbeat and not get too somber.

But it happens, right then, on Christmas and with the Beach Boys singing about a girl that stands by your side – it happens over the phone, with nary a care for family members nearby or for the fact that they have not met face-to-face… they've just written letters, they've just conversed about life more times than either of them can count… it happens, softly but still real, simultaneously like a dream and a splash of cool water to the face…

"Oh Ashley, I care. I care so much that I can barely **stand** it."

"Spence…"

And they are whispering, not from shyness but from the importance of what is coming to pass between them, the precipice so close now. They are so close to **saying** it now, even though it has been coming through loud and clear for all these many months.

"Ash… I really do adore you, you know? More than anyone ever…"

And Ashley is transfixed, spellbound upon her bed, holding her breath and the music disappears and it is just Spencer Carlin - that's all Ashley can hear.

"…and God knows, Ash… how much I… just how much I love you… I **love** you…"

And Ashley takes a deep breath, feeling the escape of a solitary tear as it winds its way down her cheek. Because it is out there now and it is undeniable and it slowly applies a balm to every wound – it breaks Ashley open, wide as the sky, and she feels weightless.

Like the best wave. Like the mellow melodies of jazz. Like the first few moments of being drunk.

_But better. This is __**so**__ much better._

If Ashley were in Ohio or if Spencer were in California… if only inches of space separated them and not hundreds of miles, Ashley would reach out and… and… _I'd kiss you senseless, Spencer Carlin. I'd never let you go._

"…Ash?" It is timid and it is nervous and Ashley grins to herself, letting her eyes flutter shut and allowing her body to revel in this feeling – allowing love to rush over her, a living and breathing thing.

"Don't let it get around, Spencer Carlin, but you've put me on cloud nine."

The replying giggle far surpasses even the best of songs in Ashley's mind and the words just come out, as easy and as simply as the ocean rolls on and on to the horizon.

"I love you, too."

*

TBC


	12. Please Please Me

Spencer felt as if the entire school-break was spent in a daze – _an Ashley Davies daze, to be exact_. When they weren't talking on the phone, Spencer was writing letter after letter. Sometimes, they couldn't even be considered letters at all – one or two sentences of complete and utter mush.

She even tried a poem, but thought better of it and tossed that one into the trash basket.

And the fear that should have been there, the worry at being found out by her parents or Glen – or the possible condemnation by God himself – just didn't seem to happen.

Oh, she knows to keep quiet about it… _which isn't always easy, 'coz I want to shout it from the rooftops_… and she tries her best to conceal it on her face… _because after each call or each returned note, I just know I am beaming_… But you can't hide your feelings forever, they seep out into everything you do and everything you say.

It's in every song she listens to, falling in love and being in love and losing love – _how can anyone disguise such a wonderful and scary feeling?_

And it becomes clear that, while her parents are still unaware and Glen is **always** unaware, Lori is not quick to be buffaloed. The girl, a year older and a year wiser, is always waiting for a quiet moment to ask about the 'hidden boy' that Spencer has and 'why don't you show him off to us?' and so on.

But when Glen comes back from the kitchen or down the stairs – ready to take his girl out to the drive-in – Lori stops the questions and just slides a little wink Spencer's way, the two lovebirds leaving for a night of fun and leaving Spencer feeling tense.

Because, even though she is most definitely in love (_my very bones ache when I hear Ashley's voice…_), it is most definitely something that must be kept silent.

_Well, Lori isn't wrong about the 'hidden' part…_

Only Glen knows of Ashley – _but not the fact that I am smitten with her, of course_ – and that is it.

Her father doesn't know and her mother doesn't know. Lori doesn't know, no matter her inquiries.

Her best friends at school – Barbara Ann and Louise, girls she has known since the age of two and girls she has told every little silly secret to – they don't know.

And when Spencer daydreams, it is about a world in which she doesn't have to hide how she feels about Ashley, where she can tell every single person she sees about how she feels and how grand it is…

"Oh, Ash, will there ever be a world like that… a world for you and I?" Spencer softly asks aloud, lying back on her bed – already dressed in her best outfit (_green and ivory dress, satin and lace_) and awaiting the ride to her first school dance of 1965 – and she wishes that Ashley were in Ohio tonight (_or, you know, every night…_) and that they could dance together, spinning 'round and 'round along the gym floor.

*

_Dear Ashley,_

_Just a quick note this time. I am about to go to a dance at the school and I wish you were here._

_Can you dance well? I've been told I have two left feet._

_But I bet if I danced with you, I'd do great._

_I love you, Ash. Talk soon._

_Spencer_

*

"Have you ever been in love?"

Kyla's question startles Ashley… and not just because they are in the middle of a movie and in the dark.

_You just don't expect important questions like that to pop up while you are watching 'The Greatest Story Ever Told'… which isn't that great or anything…_

Kyla had been the one to insist on going out and seeing a film, ignoring Ashley's protests and practically dragging the two of them to the theater – rushing past the treat counter (_and that's the best part!_) and then, once seated, not saying a single word.

But then Kyla had been acting weird for days. _For weeks even_.

And even though Ashley suspected it was boy-trouble (_or Aiden-trouble, as it were…_), Kyla still wouldn't talk about it. She would just scowl or act overly-bubbly and Ashley tired of asking 'what's up little sis?' pretty fast.

Besides, she had better things to think on – like Spencer Carlin.

Almost every night ended with the two of them talking for at least an hour, usually starting out with daily annoyances or funny stuff… then they would shyly bring up those other things, the tone shifting to one of breathless wonder and excitement – they would whisper things and sigh out words and Ashley would have to grip whatever was closest (_a_ _blanket, my thigh, the edge of my desk_) in order to stay on the ground.

And Kyla's question, while out of nowhere, brings Spencer Carlin right to the forefront and Ashley cannot stop the smile that forms upon her lips.

_Been in love? I am in it now._

But she quickly smothers the grin, choosing to cough lightly instead and darts her gaze toward her sister – who is looking at the screen.

"Maybe. Why?"

Kyla is quiet again, for so long that Ashley figures an answer isn't going to come. But then Kyla turns her way, eyes glittering, and Ashley forgets about this stupid movie and the old couple sitting behind them.

She even shoves Spencer aside for a moment, all her focus on the fact that her sister is struggling not to cry.

"Let's get out of here, Ky… go grab a shake?"

"Yea, Ash, sure."

And this time Ashley is the one leading the two of them along, out of the movie house and along the sidewalk, holding onto her sister's hand – feeling when it grips and when it goes mostly slack, mirroring the moods of her sister to a tee.

Over chocolate and strawberry shakes, the cause for Kyla's behavior finally comes out.

"I'm in love with Aiden."

"Okay. So what's with the tears?"

"He doesn't love me back, Ash. He barely knows I exist!"

"You two are always together… I'm sure he knows you exist, Ky."

"All he can talk about is **you**."

"…Oh."

"It's like he is obsessed or something!"

"I'm sure it's not like that, Kyla—"

"I'm not chopped liver, you know, I'm the most popular girl at King High and he'd be **lucky** to have me as his girl, for me to wear his ring 'round my neck…"

"Oh geez, Ky, **not** Elvis—"

"Why, Ashley? Why is it that I meet this great boy and he is totally over the moon about **you**?"

"Umm, I don't… know…?"

"And you don't even like him like that! **God**, boys are so dumb!"

Kyla takes one long sip of her shake and then stomps out of the diner, leaving Ashley to scramble up and toss some change on the table, rushing to catch up to her ranting and raving sister.

They don't talk much on the way home, Kyla sulking in the passenger seat and Ashley getting thoughtful behind the wheel.

_I mean, I knew Aiden was carrying a bit of a torch for me… but I didn't know Kyla was going to fall for him and that he'd not know how to shut his mouth… This is just __**great**__._

_Kyla is going to hold this against me and Aiden's going to keep giving me those puppy-dog eyes… when all I want is to talk to Spencer and listen to her sweet voice for the rest of my life._

And the idea forms in Ashley's head right about the time they pull into the driveway.

When Kyla gets out (_and slams the door, but I'll let it slide this time_), Ashley lets the engine idle and calls the girl's name.

"Boys are dumb, Ky. But Aiden is a good one. Just give him time, okay?"

"Yea. **Sure**."

"I promise, it'll all work out. I'll be back later."

Before Kyla can ask the 'where' or the 'what-for', Ashley peels out of the drive and heads down the familiar streets to Aiden's house.

Her plan doesn't involve telling every truth, but she thinks it to be pretty much fool-proof and it will set the boy straight.

_And hopefully wake him up to my sister at the same time._

*

Lori is the swing vote, swaying Glen to take Spencer along for another 'secret' party at Ricky's house, and she is eager to get back to the neat (_and forbidden_) music and the fun that she had the last time.

_Although I hope I don't get as sleepy this time. That was odd._

They did as before, pretending to go to bed after the school dance and then waiting an appropriate amount of time before sneaking out, meeting Lori about a block away and walking to the Tremain household.

Ricky, happy as always, welcomes them in and Gary Lewis & the Playboys hits Spencer's ears (_'…and then your heart won't have to break like mine did, if there's love behind it…'_).

His eyes, heavy as always, linger on Spencer's chest (_again_) and a lazy smile graces his lips.

"Sister Carlin…" Ricky states, seemingly happy with that being her nickname for all of time.

"Yea, I **had** to drag her here…" Glen mutters and Spencer hits him as hard as she can, glad to see him wince – if only a little bit.

Lori rolls her eyes and reaches out quickly, snatching Spencer's hand.

"We ladies need the powder room."

"Down the hall and to the right." Ricky answers, already walking toward the hi-fi and talking to guests, leaving Glen to stand there alone. Spencer sticks her tongue out at her brother, feeling all of five years old all of a sudden.

_Nya-nya, your girlfriend is my friend, too… Mister 'I __**had**__ to drag her here'…_

Once in there, Lori pulls some lipstick out of her clutch and smiles over at Spencer.

And Spencer smiles back, already feeling more relaxed than she has all evening. The school dance was fun enough, but she just couldn't enjoy it fully – she spent most of the event thinking about Ashley and if the girl likes to dance and if they would get to dance one day with each other and how that might feel and… _I know it would feel good, like amazing and perfect. Gosh, it would probably be so good that I'd barely be able to stand it_…

And it is that thought that Spencer carries with her all night long, this makeshift image of Ashley – Ashley's hands on her waist or in her hair, Ashley's voice close to her ear and not over a phone, Ashley's lips…

_Oh… dear… oh __**God**__… _Spencer feels her face flush suddenly and that heat courses throughout her entire body. And it has very little to do with taking the Lord's name in vain… _and everything to do with Ashley Davies_.

Spencer blinks her eyes, as if waking up from an intense dream, and notices that she is out with everyone else and is dancing – _quite haphazardly, too_ – with Ricky and Lori is looking at her all funny-like, a look caught somewhere between a smirk and a realization on the older girl's face and that is when she feels Ricky's hands – which are precariously close to her…

She pushes him away and stumbles outside, needing fresh air desperately. The smoke is thicker this time in Ricky's den and it trails after her as she opens the front door.

She wants to sort out her thoughts, which are careening from '_He almost got to second base and why was I even __**dancing**__ with him?_' to '_Ashley, Ashley, Ashley_…'

The California girl's name seems to beat in time with Spencer's heart – _which is beating pretty darn fast right now _– and that warm sensation returns to her being again, but even more so this go around. It is like every time she thinks of Ashley… the sensation grows stronger, it gets hotter in her own skin… and Spencer can feel sweat on her forehead.

But that is not all, not in the slightest.

She can feel this… this… _thrumming_ down in her gut, swirling and pitching and then dropping down lower and lower still.

And she digs her fingers into her arm and bites her bottom lip.

"Squirt?"

Glen's voice is like ice-water down her back and Spencer releases a shuddering breath.

And she is annoyed at him and grateful to him, all at the same time.

But she lets him get away with calling her that… _at least for tonight, 'coz I don't know what is happening to me and I could use some familiarity right now_…

He sits beside her and slings his arm over her shoulders.

"You feelin' a little weird right now?"

"Uh, yea, a bit…"

"'S okay. Look, dope can do that to you, so don't worry."

"Dope? Where? …Wait, is that what that smoke is all about?"

"Boy, Spence, you live in a whole other world…"

"Stop that."

"What?"

"Doing that, treating me like I am some small child and don't know anything. I **know** things, Glen."  
"Okay, okay… sorry…"

And his hand squeezes her shoulder lightly and she leans into him, sighing out into the early morning.

"Did Ricky get fresh with you?"

"Glen!"

"Did he? 'Coz if he did, I'll have to knock his head 'round."

And Spencer can't help it – she doesn't know if it is the dope smoke in her lungs or not, but she finds the idea of Glen and Ricky fighting very amusing.

And she laughs, silent chuckling at first and then out-right belly laughs.

And Glen joins in, mussing up her hair in the process and earning himself a smack to the arm.

The laughter subsides into a pair of pleased smiles on the face of both Carlin siblings.

"I'm fine, Glen. I don't like Ricky at **all**."

"Good. You can do better."

Spencer grins happily and kisses her brother's cheek, to which he guffaws and stands up.

"Wanna go back in?"

"Not yet. Just enjoying the air."

"Alright, Squirt, enjoy that air."

"Don't call me that!"

But Glen is already back inside and Spencer is looking up at the stars, white lights beyond the tree-tops, and she takes a deep breath – closing her eyes for just a second and continues to grin.

_Ashley Davies, wherever you are right now, know that I am thinking about you._

*

They sit on the beach, a bit of shore very familiar to the two of them – of Saturdays spent in the sun and in the surf, talking or not talking, with one of them falling in love and the other one just killing time.

Aiden still has the look, too. It lingers around his eyes and along his jaw – it is the look of someone who is head over heels and Ashley can't keep eye contact with him because of it.

Because she doesn't want to hurt anyone, not her sister and not her good friend, but she isn't the one for Aiden and the boy needs to understand that – _once and for all_.

"I'm in love with someone." Ashley says, her voice firm and solid and not able to be lost in the rolling in of the tide.

She can feel his eyes on her – wide and sad – and she keeps her gaze on the ocean, that place of comfort for so many and she is one of those who look to the waves for solace.

She did so when breaking off her friendship with Carol – _I spent hours just staring at the blue water_.

And she has done so with every parental fight that went on too long… the great sea just washing away all her troubles.

"Who?"

"You don't know them. From out of town."

"…Well, what's the lucky guy's like?"

Ashley looks at Aiden then and the boy sort of sags, his body going deeper into the sand, and Ashley sighs – crossing her arms and then uncrossing them again.

"C'mon Ashley… I just… I want you to be happy…"

"Even if it won't be with you?"

"Sure. Of course."

It's a weak assurance, but Ashley knew this would be no cake-walk. She knew this would be painful – _but necessary_ – and so she looks back to the water and the horizon and she pictures Spencer Carlin… and she talks about the girl she loves – keeping minor details to herself.

"Kind. Funny. Into music. Great laugh and a wonderful voice… We talk day and night to each other, we share everything and… I wasn't expecting it at all, but I am falling **so** in love with this person…"

They are both silent for a long time and it is Aiden who speaks first, clearing his throat.

"You deserve it, Ash. You deserve to be so in love."

"So do you, Aiden."

"Yea, maybe someday."

"What about… Kyla?"

"Kyla?"

"My sister…? Kind of pretty and kind of dull sometimes…?"

"Are you playing matchmaker **already**?"

And it could have been awkward, but – for some reason – it isn't. It's like an unspoken agreement has occurred between them – they won't dwell on what is not, but only on what is and what can be.

For Ashley, what can be is a girl in Ohio.

_And for Aiden, here's hoping it is Kyla… 'coz I can stand another week of a mopey little sister_.

"She thinks you are super keen."

"She's real cute."

"I'll take your word on that, Aid…"

He laughs a bit and she does the same, the two of them getting up and heading back to their individual automobiles.

And the look is still upon Aiden's features, only in glances now, but it is more resigned than before and Ashley pats herself on the back for a plan well executed.

_Aiden is still my friend, but knows he doesn't stand a chance at more. And maybe he and Kyla will start courting and she'll cheer up._

_And then there is Spencer… _Ashley smiles to herself at the mere mention of the girl, even within her own head, and she is eager to get home again – to go to her room and shut the door, to dial each number with intent and with love… she is ready to talk to the girl of her dreams.

*

_Spencer,_

_I'll dance with you one day and that's a promise. I can teach you all the cool moves, if you'd like that…_

_I know we are going to talk today, but I wanted to write to you anyway._

_I kind of… told someone about you. In a way. I talked about you without saying your name or anything._

_It was nice. I really like talking about you._

_I really like __you__… so much sometimes that I don't know what to do with myself._

_I love you, Spence. I'll be talking to you in a couple of hours!_

_Ashley_

*

TBC


	13. Yesterday

There are moments that imprint themselves upon you and you never forget them – stuck on you like a brand, like what cowboys used to do to cattle.

And there are good ways to be branded, good memories that never fade away and they linger on you.

Like the first time Ashley heard her father play the guitar, whispers of some lullaby at the edge of her crib – faint but still vivid, Ashley can always pull that recollection up and it brings a soft smile to her lips.

Like the first time she put her fingers on piano keys, reluctant to do Christine's bidding… but finding aimless tunes within her own body and a sudden eagerness to let them out into the world.

_Like hearing Dylan for the first time. Like the first time I felt the ocean on my legs._

_Like… Spencer's laughter ringing in my ears, just like right now…_

Ashley never gets bored, not talking to Spencer.

She wants to know about the girl's day or the girl's weekend. She wants to hear about Glen and Lori and Ricky's parties. She wants to hear about Spencer at school and Spencer at home.

_Even Spencer at church!_

Everything is endlessly fascinating about the girl from Ohio and Ashley wants to be an expert on Spencer.

_If only that was a class I could go to… I might actually take school seriously!_

And they are in love, blissfully and wonderfully in love with one another.

After Carol and after all her fears, Ashley Davies is head-over-heels in love with a girl all the way on the other side of the country – over the phone and in letters… Ashley is unmistakable in love.

And sometimes it shows too well, the mask slipping ever so slightly and Ashley wonders if everyone can see it.

Because it is another of those good things, _one of the best things_, and Ashley hates to hide it.

Aiden knows some of it, but not all. Kyla sometimes looks like she suspects, but Ashley doesn't answer veiled questions. Her father comments on occasion (_'you seem pretty chipper these days'_ ) and Ashley just brushes it off. Christine… well, Christine doesn't say anything and Ashley likes it that way.

It is the bad moments, though – the ones you never see coming – they are the kind that push too deeply into your body and they wound you.

Like the first time Ashley heard her parents fighting and ran to her room, crying despised tears.

Like the first time Ashley slept with a boy, all at once important and a lie, painful for a multitude of reasons.

_Like shoving a friend away just because I liked her too much. Like all the times I treated Kyla poorly and didn't care at all._

"Ash? You still there?"

"Yea, Spence… sorry, you've still got me…"

"I better still have you."

And the response is light and yet still caring – something only Spencer seems to do, letting Ashley know that there are no reprimands… only concern and compassion… and it cracks Ashley open a little more.

Every wall built, out of self-protection, is breaking down due to this girl from Ohio.

And Ashley doesn't fight it anymore.

_I sound like all those silly songs I can't stand… but it is true, all of it… This girl is turning me into a big sap._

Ashley chuckles and Spencer, as if she cannot help it, giggles some as well.

"What's so funny?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yep."

"Care to explain, **Miss** Davies?"

Spencer's voice sounds mockingly like a teacher and Ashley grins, wishing that she could reach out and find Spencer there… wishing she could reach out and place her hand against Spencer's face…

"I love you, Spence."

"Oh Ash… I love you, too… You are just so… so…"

As Spencer searches for words, Ashley wraps herself up in this warmth of affection. It is unlike anything else and she doesn't want it to ever end.

But the bedroom door opens and Ashley rolls her eyes (_of course, just when I am enjoying myself_), ready to deliver an order to whoever it is to leave and give her privacy while on the telephone.

The order dies in her throat, however.

Because Kyla is standing there, looking lost and make-up smeared along her face.

And the pounding of Ashley's heart goes from lively to terrified in a quick second.

"Kyla, what's—"

"It's… d-daddy… oh god, Ashley…"

And the world just kind of stops, right then and there, because it is one of those moments.

The one you don't expect and the one you dread and the one that will cut the deepest – the one that will leave some part of you hollow and shattered…

Spencer is saying her name, worry in that sweet voice growing more pronounced and Ashley knows she should answer – but she feels frozen and she is already crying silently and Kyla is shaking at the door.

"I've… I've got to go…" Ashley manages to whisper, finding it hard to talk due to a pressure on her chest – like when Kyla used to jump on her and sit on her, squealing with delight (_we couldn't have been more than three or four and he loved to see us play like that_) .

Like when she got hit full-on by a wave, getting dragged under and getting a good drink of seawater (_the first time I went further out and he let go of my hand, told me this was the best way to learn how to swim_).

"Ashley, are you okay? Please, what's going on?"

Spencer's voice is not concealing a thing now, it is frantic and Ashley trembles on her bed and Kyla is sobbing uncontrollably.

And even though the actual words have not been said, Ashley knows exactly what is going on.

She wishes with all her might for this to be a nightmare and to wake up, to turn back the clock and be back to talking on the phone with Spencer – not a trouble in the world, not a tear to be shed.

But Ashley knows what is going on and no amount of wishing will change it. No amount of denial can fix it – not with Kyla's heaving sadness, not with the cold fear settling in Ashley's bones…

"My father… my father is… Spence, he's…"

And Ashley cries in earnest now, throwing the phone down and tearing out into the hallway – past Kyla and ignoring her sister's plea for comfort – and she sees policemen in the foyer, sees Christine looking placidly fake and Ashley wants to scream until her lungs burn up.

She hears things over her own breathing, over her own world crashing down, a jumble of comments ('_drunk and wet roads and possibly poor visibility'_) and it becomes more real, becomes more agonizing.

_My father is dead. And he is not coming back._

*

Spencer walks to the right, almost coming into contact with her bedroom door.

Then she turns around and walks to the left, all the way to her window.

And she repeats the action over and over, only breaking the routine of her movements to go to the telephone – powder blue and serene – and then she just stares at it, receiver in the cradle.

She wants to call Ashley back. She wants to know what is happening all the way in California and what has caused that sound of… _despair, total and utter despair_… in Ashley's voice.

But it doesn't take much imagination to piece things together (_I don't like to do that, to imagine what might be and then find things to be wrong… please, God, let me be __**wrong**__…_) what has occurred.

With Ashley's halting sentence and the echoing of pain, Spencer Carlin knows that all the wishing in the universe won't make this go away.

A knock on the door startles her and Spencer finds her own hand at her chest, her breathing erratic.

Her father pokes his head around the edge and smiles, but it slowly drains from his face when he takes in the sight of his daughter.

_I probably look stricken. I feel numb. What can I do? How can I help her? I'm all the way here… and she is out there, far away…_

"Spencer, is everything alright?"

She could just make up something, about a grade on a test or about a new cheer. She could make up an even bigger story, fashion a tale about some unknown boy and her false feelings… but it is her father and he always understands and… and…

"A friend of mine is… I mean, I think… I think she's…"

It's like her mouth won't work and Spencer feels hot tears slip out of her eyes without her permission and her father is suddenly right there – he is holding her and 'shhhh'-ing her and rubbing her back.

And it makes her cry more, because her father is alive and well… while, in California, Ashley… _my wonderful Ashley, the girl I love more than anything or anyone_… has lost her father.

Spencer burrows into her father's chest, crying hard for a girl on the west coast and for the fact that she cannot be there – to be a shoulder, to be a rock, to just **be** there for Ashley.

"Life's so unfair…" Spencer croaks out and her father's lips graze the top of her head.

"I know it can seem that way, Spencer, but life is full of good and bad. What seems tough now will get easier, with time."

"But **why**? Why do the bad things happen to good people?"

Her father pulls back and studies her face and Spencer tries to cover up some of what she is feeling – but fears that she is laid bare, an open book that her father can surely read.

Where her mother is perceptive in all the dangerous ways – like she has eyes in the back of her head, knowing when any 'wrong-doing' is going on… her father is perceptive in a safer way, knowing when his children are muddled or scared, knowing when they need a firm hand or a gentle talk.

"How about you tell me what this is about and maybe I can help you with these questions? Over some cocoa?"

And there is her father – a full picture of the man Spencer so loves – kind and quiet, still recalling when a chocolate drink could fix all the problems with his son and daughter.

And right now, maybe he is right – because Spencer clings to him as they descend the stairs and go into the den.

Paula Carlin is at a baby shower, all pink and with gifts in tow. And Glen is with Lori.

So it is just the two of them and Spencer is so glad for that, not sure how she could stand any of this with her whole family around.

"My friend, my pen-pal… the girl I talk to on the telephone… I think something happened to her father. And I wish I could be there, you know, to help… or **something**. But I'm here, in Ohio and she is… she's all the way in California…"

Spencer says all of this while gazing into her mug, not daring to look up during this sort-of confession.

And she waits for her father to say… _I don't know what he might say. Or what he might ask._

'_Why do you care so much?' might be asked and how would I answer? Could I lie convincingly enough, even with my feelings so close? Could I ever pretend that I don't care about Ashley? That this isn't killing me…?_

"Ah, so that's why the telephone bill is so high lately."

Spencer looks up and blinks, watching her father calmly take a sip of his hot chocolate and his eyes are nothing but warm and Spencer smiles – just a little bit – before taking a sip of her own drink.

"Just… talk to her when she needs you to, Spencer. Write her a letter tonight and tell her how sorry you are for whatever is going on. You know what the right thing to do is. And your friend—"

"Ashley. That's her name."

Her father nods and his lips quirk upward.

"…and Ashley will appreciate the fact that you care. It'll help her during this time."

Spencer puts the mug down and goes to her father, hugging him tightly – trying to let him know… _everything, how much I love him and what his understanding means to me and that I never want to lose him, never want to disappoint him… _

"It'll all be okay, Spencer." Her father's voice coasts over her ear and Spencer can't help but believe that he really means it – and not just about this particular conversation. But about so much more.

And maybe this is the lie that Spencer will end up regretting her belief in, the one where her father knows more than he says and doesn't turn her away…

_But, for tonight, I'll take it._

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Spencer."

*

March 22, 1965

_Dear Ashley,_

_I've sat here for an hour or more trying to think of what to write._

_Or what to say if I called you right this second._

_I'm not sure what is going on, but I know it must not be good. And I am so sorry!_

_Sorry that something bad has happened to you, to your father, to your family. Sorry that I can't be there to hold your hand or… or anything you'd need me for…_

_I'm just so sorry, Ash. So very sorry._

_And all I want is to make things better for you. Tell me how and I'll do it._

_I love you so much. Don't forget that and I hope it gives you strength… like your love does for me._

_Love,_

_Spencer_

*

TBC


	14. If I Needed Someone

Kyla watches her sister move about in a fog, blank face and heavy movements, and she wants to cry more – even though Kyla believes that her own sadness has already added another layer of water to the ocean.

Seeing Ashley sad just rips Kyla up and it leaves the younger girl at a loss, not sure how to comfort and not sure if that comfort would even be accepted in the first place.

_Like when she skinned her knee and tried to hide the tears and yelled at me._

_Like when she stopped talking to that friend of hers and looked so lost, but wouldn't tell me why they ended their friendship._

_Like right now, sitting beside me and a million miles away._

There is a buffet of food and there is alcohol and there are somber people.

And there is Christine, who looks composed one moment and angry the next – and Kyla isn't sure if that anger is grief or just annoyance at having to do this at all.

And she'd turn to Ashley – _if this was anything else_ – and get her sister's opinion and they'd laugh a little and keep each other company.

But the company they both seek is in a coffin, getting ready to be put in the ground after people pay respects. And the house is full of musicians, rowdy and telling stories.

And there are some family members that Kyla doesn't know, can't remember.

And then there is Aiden, sitting beside Ashley and holding the girl's lifeless hand.

Kyla feels a betraying twitch in her palm, but shoves it away.

_Because this isn't the time to be petty, to want that solace to be all my own._

But she misses it all the same – that consoling arm, that strong shoulder – she wants someone to hold her hand and to care.

_Because Ashley can't seem to offer that and who else is left? We are the only family now, we are all the other has got._

"I can't do this…"

It is a faint whisper and Ashley is up, running past startled faces and drunk faces and out of the house.

Kyla starts to chase after her, but a warm grip is on her wrist.

"Just… let her go."

"But Aiden, what if she hurts herself?"

And they both know it is possible.

Ashley Davies is a wild girl on the best of days, doing all the things that 'good' girls are not supposed to and flaunting the fact.

But with so much pain, Kyla fears what Ashley **might** do.

"I can't lose her now, Aiden. She is all that I have left."

And even though she should be all dried up, the tears start to fall again and Aiden is wrapping her in a secure embrace.

And Kyla holds on tight, thinking for the hundredth time that this has to be some horrible dream and that she'll wake up – _and everything will be fine, everything will be peachy…_

But it is just a daydream and someone starts talking at the front of the room and it is mostly silent in this rambling house – and the quiet is only punctuated by Kyla's stifled sobs against Aiden's chest.

*

Ashley sits upon the shore for so long, losing count of hours and hours of time.

She tore her skirt of black on the door of her car and that about pushed her over the edge, her hands clenched into fists and she had to bite her bottom lip to stop from crying out.

She took off her shoes and walked along what seemed like miles of sand, walking and walking and seeing nothing.

Not the ocean. Not the sun as it rose and fell. Not the first glimpse of stars in the dusky sky.

_Not even music sounds good. Nothing will be good ever again. Not now._

And Ashley can see him as plain as her own shaking form on the ground, she can see his kind eyes and his always-laughing smile. She can see the way his hands created songs and she can still smell his cologne in the air and she can't imagine a world without her father in it – the man who instilled in her the love of jazz and of swimming and of… _everything_.

_I never got to tell him of my dreams, of wanting to be just like him._

_I never got to tell him of my fears, of not wanting to fail him in any way… of wanting him to be proud of me._

_I never got to tell him about… so many things… things like Carol and boys and…_

"God, Spence, I wish you could have met him. He would have liked you. He would have picked on you a bit for listening to such bubblegum stuff… but he would have liked you, I just know it…"

And Ashley is smiling as she is crying, curling in on herself and feeling alone and scared, her voice timid and broken as nighttime rolls in.

She knows she should go back home, back to face… _him, being gone_… or to – at the very least – try to be there for her sister. She should grab onto Kyla and never let go.

But Ashley is frozen in anguish and all she wants… all she **craves** is…

"Spence… I wish you were here something awful…"

But Spencer Carlin is too far away to hear her and Ashley's words get drown out by the tide.

*

Kyla stares out the window all night.

And she falls asleep on the couch, still in her mourning clothes when Christine jerks her awake.

"You'll be late for school, dear."

And that voice is clipped and aloof and quick, so quick that by the time Kyla flutters her eyelids and looks around… there is no one there.

Just the distant sound of heels clicking against the floor.

And she glances back outside, to a world just waking up and moving on and life just as it was before – at least for everyone else. _Not for me. Not for Ashley._

Kyla had hoped that her sister's car would be there with the dawn – _I had hoped that she would be the one to wake me up and tell me to go to bed_ – but the driveway holds only one car this day.

She calls Aiden and the boy says he looked at the beach where they used to hang out almost every weekend and couldn't find the girl – and his sigh is as weary as Kyla feels.

She closes her eyes, trying desperately to not cry anymore – feeling washed out and tired and… _god, I'd give anything to have him back…_

"What about this guy that Ash likes? Maybe he knows something?"

Aiden's voice penetrates Kyla's thoughts and she blinks fast, attempting to keep up and catch onto whatever this information is that the boy is presenting.

"…Wait, what?"

"Yea, umm—"

"Ashley has a beau?"

"She said so. Said she's… well… uh…"

"Aiden!"  
"I just don't know if I should tell you, Kyla. It might have been in confidence or something."

"I'm her **sister**!"

She can imagine the boy wincing at her shrill tone and she can hear Ashley's voice in her own head (_'you sound like a cat with its tail caught in a door, Ky!'_), but it matters little to her right now.

If there is someone who might know where Ashley is, then Kyla wants to know about them.

_And once I find her, then I can get mad at her for not telling me of her secret boyfriend! I mean, we're sisters! Would it kill her to confide in me every once in a while?_

"…wouldn't say his name, just that they talk a lot and that he is not from around here--"

"Not from around here? What do you mean?"

"Just what I said, Kyla. She said that they talk day and night…"

"But Ash is only ever gabbing to… to…"

_Wait a second…Talking day and night…? Not from… around here? I mean… it can't be… can it? It __**couldn't**__ be._

…_Could it?_

"I need to go, Aiden."

"What about Ashley?"

But she isn't listening to him.

She just hangs up the phone and feels her mind spinning with…

_I don't even know what to call what I am thinking! This can't be true… I mean, Ashley is… she likes boys and… and she's even spent the night at their houses before!_

But now that she is thinking about it, Kyla is having doubts and she wonders what kind of life Ashley is keeping hidden from everyone in the world – from the halls of King High and from Kyla and from Aiden…

_Oh, Ash, if this is true… I don't know what to do…_

A sound comes from the foyer and mail scatters to the floor from the brass slot and Kyla walks over in a daze, picking it up and setting it down.

But a blue envelope catches her eye and she knows just who it is from.

And it is such a wrong thought, such a bad deed and makes her feel like such a terrible sister…

_But I need to know. You should have told me. I don't know how to handle this… if it is true… and you are not here to talk to, Ashley… you are not here to give me answers._

"So, maybe this letter from Spencer Carlin can answer some things for me."

*

TBC


	15. You're Going To Lose That Girl

It is the strains of Buddy Holly that Ashley hears first as she walks back into the house, everything back in its place as if a tragedy didn't just occur days ago. _As if a funeral didn't just happen._

And she doesn't want to be in this home anymore, with only memories of her father to greet her and Christine still alive – which is a cold thought, dark and despairing – but it is how Ashley feels.

She feels adrift and all she can seem to cling to is the faint phone-lines stretching out to Ohio… but even that seems too far away now.

Spencer is just too far away to help and Ashley doesn't know what to do to stop this overwhelming pain inside. _If she were here, I could maybe stand it. If Spencer were here, I could maybe survive this._

Her steps take her upstairs and the music grows louder, but it is not coming from Kyla's room.

It is floating out of Ashley's bedroom and she pushes the door open silently, finding Kyla curled up on the floor – ear close to the speaker and the 45 of _'Oh Boy'_ spinning round and round.

"It was the first one he ever bought me, Ash. I begged for it and he bought it for me."

Kyla's voice is soft and sad and Ashley is crying before she even knows it. And Kyla is up, bare feet and dress all wrinkled, and they are hugging fiercely – they are holding on so tight, as if at any moment the wind will pick up and try to carry them away.

Ashley pictures the tornado from _The Wizard of Oz_ (_he took us to see that, with Kyla hiding due to the Wicked Witch and me joking around, saying that green-skinned lady was really Christine_), whisking them off to a land where wishes get granted – and it makes her cry harder, burying her face in Kyla's shoulder.

'…_Oh boy, when you're with me__…__Oh boy, the world can see__… t__hat you, were meant, for me…'_

"Ash, I thought you might be hurt out there or doing something crazy--"

"I'm… I'm sorry, Ky, sorry I just ran out like that. I didn't… I just don't know how to handle this… not any of this…"

"Don't leave again, okay? It's just you and I now. You're the only sister I've got."

"…I know."

The needle hits the smooth part of the record and it is just the static in the room now, mixing with the sound of two sisters' shaky breathing.

Ashley blinks away the tears still hovering in her eyes, hanging heavy on her eyelashes… and that's when she sees it, bold enough to stand out – but still the most comforting of sights - on her bedspread.

A square of blue, graced with black ink writing, holding the only address that Ashley cares for.

_Oh Spence… _

And it doesn't ease all the pain, doesn't erase what has happened, doesn't dry every teardrop… but it is like a warm hand in her own and suddenly those phone-lines don't seem so long, that distance doesn't seem so far… As if knowing what Ashley needed, there it is – a letter from Spencer Carlin.

Kyla pulls away and keeps her head low, keeps her face averted as she speaks quietly.

"I brought that up here for you, that letter from… from your friend…"

Ashley feels something along her spine, a crawling sensation that spins out and settles in her stomach, all due to the delivery of Kyla's comment.

Like her sister knows something, something she shouldn't **ever** know.

"Oh. Thanks, Ky."

"You two… you are really close, like, best friends… right?"

"Uh, yea, j-just like that."

Ashley can feel that gnawing sensation grow stronger, pushing upward and into her lungs – making it hard to breathe properly, forcing the air out in stifled gasps – and her mouth doesn't want to work at all, it wants to freeze up completely.

"Ash, um, I… I don't know how to—"

"Look, Ky, I am wiped out, you know… from everything… and I'd like some time to myself, okay?"

Ashley rushes the words out, finding her own fingers twisting against each other nervously.

But Kyla does not move a single inch.

"I want to know what is going on, Ashley. **Please** tell me."

"I… I don't know what you are talking about, Ky."

"Aiden said…"

_That blabbermouth! God, if I'd known that he'd go around and tell everyone about this 'guy' I am in love with… I wouldn't have said a thing!_

"…that you had a boyfriend and that he wasn't from this area and I was wondering, you know, who that might be…"

_I can't tell her, I just can't… I'll lose her and then… then what will I have left? My father is gone, I can't lose Kyla, too! _

"…and, Ashley, I just don't know how to… how to say any of this, 'cause it's just… well, it's just plain **crazy**, right? I mean… you… you like boys, **don't** you?"

And there it is – taking all that Ashley has left, all the oxygen and all the solid ground, taking anything that might have been there at all and blowing it sky-high.

She doesn't know what to do, stock still in the middle of her bedroom and with Buddy Holly continuing to turn around on that little record player and Kyla's gaze finally upon her – imploring and confused.

And over there, calling out to her with a sweet voice – tender and sure, is Spencer Carlin… wrapped up in paper and syllables, delicate and true and so much more important than Carol Parker Stenson ever was – because Ashley said those secret and amazing words to Spencer… and Spencer said them back, willingly.

Ashley opened up the hidden side of herself to Spencer and the girl didn't run away, didn't shun her, didn't call her names or curse her…

And as much as Ashley wants to keep her sister… _now more than ever_… she cannot lose Spencer either.

Because that girl in Ohio, with that brother and that church-going life and that pretty poor taste in music – that girl is, simply, Ashley's world.

_But can I really tell Kyla? Can I really say a thing when all I want to do is flee? With her staring at me like this… __**begging**__ me to tell her the one thing I've kept from practically everyone? Will she still love me after that, still recall the Ashley she has known since birth… her sister, her __**only**__ sister… will she still want me in her life then?_

Ashley takes halting steps to her bed and picks the letter up, running her hand over it gently. She turns it over and over, sliding her finger over the edge of the still-sealed flap.

"Don't be cross with me, but I almost steamed it open."

Kyla's voice is so small and Ashley doesn't even look up, knowing that she could run now if she chose – she could make up the best story ever and conceal this other world in which she lives.

Because she has dated boys and let them get close to her, she's gone to the dances and she has ridden out to make-out points with several of them… Aiden could be the yard-stick to measure her interest in guys to, with the days of their kissing and such not that far gone by…

_But… what if it was really okay? What if she didn't hate me? What if I could, sort of, tell her… and not lie anymore, not about any of it… what if Kyla could keep on loving me? Is it possible? __**Is it**__?_

"Ash… aren't you going to **answer** me?"

Ashley keeps her eyes trained on the letter in her hands, looking at the nice way her name looks in Spencer's penmanship. And she feels terrified, with her mourning outfit on and sand stuck to her skin from hours on that beach… Ashley Davies is so close to breaking down, but she has this letter – light upon her palm – and she asks herself once more… _is this worth losing damn near everything?_

And, for better or worse, Ashley knows it is.

"I like boys, Ky… just not that much."

"What… what about Aiden?"

"What about him?"

"Didn't you two, you know, go all the way?"

"Yes."

"Well, isn't that liking boys **a lot**?"

"…Not really, Ky. Anyone can go all the way. It's not **that** special."

"Then why did you do it if you didn't really want to, Ashley?"

"I dunno, 'cause it's the thing to do, I guess…"

"So, you don't like boys that much… but you **do** like them?"

Ashley sighs and tears the letter open, pulling the thin sheet of paper from the envelope and clutching the missive to her chest, tears starting to roll down her face again – sadness on top of sadness, seemingly never-ending on this day.

"Kyla, I… I…"

What she aches to say is getting lodged in her throat, leaving it raw and scratchy, so she swallows once… twice… and she peers down at the letter, pulling one side down and revealing the sentences that Spencer wrote all the way in Ohio…

'_I love you so much. Don't forget that and I hope it gives you strength… like your love does for me.'_

And Ashley imagines a man behind a large curtain, doling out dreams and righting wrongs – and she imagines clicking her heels and bringing her father back… she imagines being able to look up and find Spencer Carlin right front of her, saying the very thing that she wrote – _in that wonderful voice_ – and Ashley would stand up… Ashley would stand up and fight for this love that just **cannot **be bad or sinful.

"I… l-love… Spencer… more than any b-boy in the whole world."

She is not sure if her lips moved or if she just had a thought so loud that it echoed out into the room.

But it is out there now.

And Ashley looks up in time to see Kyla's face crumble further into misunderstanding as the girl runs out of this bedroom. She can hear her sister's feet against the floor and the slamming of the girl's door.

And Ashley Davies just slips to the ground, reading the letter and re-reading it and re-reading it, trying to gather some of that strength she so needs.

///

TBC


	16. Things We Said Today

Spencer cannot truly pay attention to much these days – her classes are a blur of numbers and lessons, teachers' voices like one long note… a monotone drone, background noise in her head.

And even her parents, with their usual chatter and questions (_'Got anyone for the Spring Fling, Spencer? How about that nice boy, what's his name, Arthur? Timothy…something, Janice's son?'_) do not seem to make a dent in her brain.

Glen and Lori, sometimes asking her to come along to a movie (_well it is Lori, actually, doing the asking… Glen doesn't want me along on their dates…_) and Spencer just declines, opting to sit up in her room and stare at her phone, willing it to ring with every fiber of her being.

And it never does.

It hasn't for days and days – five **long** days – and Spencer is about to go 'round the bend waiting to hear from Ashley.

She took what her father said to heart, writing a letter of support and love for the girl that has taken over her world, and Spencer has done her best to leave it at that.

Because she knows that Ashley is going through something bad, something that no one should have to, and Spencer can't just… _run down the street and go to her, hug her until the pain goes away and kiss her…_

Spencer flops back down on her bed, homework forgotten, and she sighs out loud.

That's been another thing drawing all her attention away from school and cheers and dances and just about everything else that used to matter so much, the fact that Spencer Carlin cannot stop thinking about kissing Ashley.

Even now, begging God to let the telephone ring and for Ashley to be on the other end of the line and to know – _for certain_ – that the girl is alright… even now, Spencer is imagining what it would be like to just… kiss Ashley Davies…

_God, I know you aren't judging me, because love is never wrong. But surely… I shouldn't be thinking about… __**that**__ so much, should I? Especially now, when she is out there and hurting… and I should be thinking comforting thoughts, not… well, not what I am thinking about right now…_

It seems to happen with more frequency, too.

Spencer will be listening to Mrs. Johnston one minute and then, like living in a perpetual daydream, Spencer is somewhere else.

Or, to be more exact, she is with Ashley.

And maybe they are talking… or just quietly looking at one another… and they move so slowly, getting so close that Spencer swears she can feel the girl's breath on her face…

Usually that's when a bell will ring or she'll be asked a question – which she has no idea as to what it pertains and cannot answer and feels the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks – but none of that seems to stop the thoughts from occurring.

_And how! They just seem to get more… __**vivid**__. I've even woken up several times all out of breath and with her name on my lips… Thank goodness I keep my door shut at night!_

It's all so new to her as well, this constant focus on one person.

Spencer has had small crushes, brief fancies that would end with a school year, and she never thought much about them – even at the time they were happening.

James McMillan gave her a piece of candy, when they were both six, and she thought she'd marry him one day… but, of course, that was just silly and Spencer forgot the boy once she turned seven.

Bobby Nelson danced with her three times at her first 'big-girl' party, when she was twelve, and she wondered if that was love… _I mean, it was a __**big **__deal for a boy to ask you to twist more than once and all the other girls were so jealous…_

But now Spencer knows better.

Because none of those boys made her feel like this – made her heart beat wild in her chest and make her nervous (_and yet, in such a good way_) and cause the blood in her veins to grow hot.

None of those boys made her feel so giddy and alive and happy, like she could… like she could…

_Gosh, I don't know, like I could pick up a whole mountain!_

Spencer laughs a little to herself and rolls onto her side, curling up just a bit and her eyes – like a magnet – go to the telephone.

_Oh Ashley, I miss you __**so**__ much… if I could just know you are okay, that would be enough…_

"Please…" Spencer whispers out in her bedroom, soft voice not heard by anyone else – not her father in the den with his books, not her mother wiping down the kitchen, not even Glen as he plays 'Heart Full of Soul' loudly in his room (_'she's been gone such a long time, longer than I can bear…'_) – not a single person to hear her plea… except, hopefully, a girl that is hundreds of miles away…

"…let me hear from you soon…"

*** *** ***

Ashley tries to focus on the music coming from the jukebox, The Searchers telling her all about how they _'saw her today, I saw her face, it was a face I loved and I knew I had to run away… and get down on my knees and pray that they'd go away…'_, but it isn't working at all.

There is the hustle and bustle of this diner – lunchtime on a Saturday – and there are many faces that she recognizes from school. There is the clatter of plates and cups and there is talking and laughing.

And then there is Ashley and Kyla, opposite one another in their booth, totally silent.

Kyla didn't say a word for the rest of that night, the night where Ashley confessed her feelings for a girl in Ohio – and her lack of feelings for boys in general.

And the next day, Kyla avoided her completely – out the door early and finding other ways to King High and staying out late… Ashley didn't lurk by the front door or anything, but she kept her ears open and didn't go to bed until she knew Kyla was home.

Ashley would try and catch her sister unaware, try to draw her out and into conversation – but Kyla would just brush by her. On the fifth day of this stalemate, Ashley decided to take matters into her own hands.

Because what did she have to lose anymore?

_I've already told her my deepest and darkest secret, so it can't get much worse… and she must not __**completely**__ hate me, because I've not noticed anyone at school treating me differently… and Christine is certainly none the wiser…_

Ashley decided to take these facts as good signs that her relationship with her sister was salvageable.

And so, when dawn broke, Ashley got up.

And she waited right outside of Kyla's bedroom door.

Kyla tried to push past her, but Ashley had made up mind to block her sister's path – left step for left step, right step for right step… and they repeated that until Kyla's face grew red.

"Move, Ashley!"

"No!"

"**God**, you are such a **pain**!"

"And you are as stubborn as a mule, Ky! **Talk** to me!"

"No!"

"C'mon, Kyla, didn't you say that we are all we have now… it's just you and I, okay? We are the only family we've got and I don't want to lose you."

"I don't know how to accept **any** of this, Ashley! I… I don't know if I can…"

"…Can't you try, Ky? **Please**… don't leave me alone here…"

They stared at each other for endless minutes, Ashley trying her best to believe that Kyla would cave and not shut her out forever.

And, with a heavy sigh, Kyla cracked just a tiny bit.

"I'm hungry."

"Wanna grab a shake?"

"Fine. And I'm **not** paying for it."

"That's alright by me, Ky."

And so here they are, in a busy diner, not talking at all.

Ashley can't blame it all on Kyla, either. Once they got here and sat down, she got all kinds of nervous again and couldn't seem to find the words to say.

Kyla sips her shake and keeps her gaze out the window.

Ashley taps her fingers restlessly on the table-top and watches every patron that comes in or goes out.

"Are you really… you know, sure about all of this… this **thing **with, uh, girls?"

Ashley finally looks at her sister, who is still watching the world go by and taking a measured sip of her strawberry shake, almost as if she didn't just ask a question.

"…Yea, Ky, I'm pretty sure."

Kyla's eyes move from the window and to her own hands that loosely hold the ice-cream filled glass before her and Ashley tries to figure out what might come next – _is this it? Is this the moment where I no longer have a sister?_

"When, uh, did you know… I mean, how did you—"

"For a long time. Like forever. I… I didn't want to be different, you know? I tried to change myself… but it didn't work."

"…You don't like boys **at all**?"

Kyla whispers the inquiry and Ashley shakes her head in the negative. Kyla takes another long drink of her shake and then leans back in her seat, crossing her arms and fixing Ashley with an almost determined glare.

"I can't promise anything, Ash… I can't promise to just be okay with… with what you are."

And Ashley feels another stab at her heart, another wound to match the one her father's passing has left… and she isn't sure she can take much more.

"Yea, I get it." Ashley murmurs and she grabs her purse, throwing some change onto the table, rushing to get up – not wanting to hear Kyla cutting her out of what's left of their family.

But Kyla's hand is on her wrist – firm and strong – and Ashley struggles to keep the tears at bay in this public place.

And seeing that Kyla is fighting to do the same almost brings Ashley to her knees.

"…But I can try. I can try… because you are my sister… and you are right, I don't want to lose you… you are **all** I have in this world, Ashley…"

And Ashley decides, right then and there, to not give a damn about appearances.

She is too overwhelmed with relief to care at all what anyone else thinks.

So, she pulls Kyla up from the booth and crushes her sister in a hug.

And when Kyla's arms wrap around her as well, just as tightly, Ashley breathes easy for the first time in days…

…and all she wants to do now is share it all with Spencer Carlin.

Because it's already been too long.

*** *** ***

March 29, 1965

_Spencer,_

_I'm sorry that it has taken me a while to get in touch. There's just been so much going on here… and I didn't know how to talk about it, not at first anyway. I hope you're not mad at me or anything._

_Please __don't be._

_My father died and we had a funeral for him about a week ago. I couldn't handle it and just took off, just ran right out of the house. I came back, of course… but it's been hard. Really hard._

_I went up to the attic today and there was his old guitar and photographs and he had this ancient looking steamer trunk… it was filled up with everything about his life, stuff I never even knew about like yearbooks and letters and such._

_I tried sorting it out, but I just ended up crying a lot._

_I just… I can't believe he is really gone. I don't know if I'll ever truly believe it._

_And… well… Kyla knows about you and me. _

_I think she guessed it, kind of… it doesn't matter how she found out, because I told her the truth._

_I told her I love you._

_She hasn't told anyone and I know my mother doesn't have a clue._

_I just couldn't lie anymore, you know? I just couldn't sit there and pretend that I didn't love you, because, goodness knows I do…_

_I just thought it better if I wrote you instead of called you. For now._

_At least until things cool down again. Kyla is okay, but it's a lot for her to take in._

_But… I miss your voice. And I miss… __you__, any and every part of you that I get to have is what I miss._

_Sometimes it feels like I am just too far away from you and I can't stand it._

_Sometimes I want to get on a plane and come find you in Ohio._

_It's kind of funny, but I think this is the longest letter I've ever written to you._

_Just know that it won't be the last._

_Ashley_

_PS – I love you. Just had to tell you again._

_PPS – I swear, no one has ever made me feel this sappy, but… Spencer, I __wish__ you were here something awful._

*** *** ***

Spencer read the letter once.

And then again.

And she told herself to wait, to be patient, to be happy to know that Ashley was doing as well as expected during this difficult time and that it probably took a lot for Ashley to write the letter in the first place.

Before she knows it, though, Spencer is dialing the number to California anyway.

And she is eager and nervous and she must be holding her breath because she feels a little light-headed.

And she is almost going to hang up, second guessing her actions and feeling bad for not respecting Ashley's wishes…

…but then she hears it, she hears Ashley's voice, and suddenly it is all worth it.

_So completely and utterly worth it…_

"Hello?"

"I know you said to wait, but I got your letter and I just had to call you and tell you I am **so** sorry about everything that is going on and I **wish** I could be there, to help you and hold you and I've missed you, too and I love you and I'm sorry for calling like this—"

"Spencer?"

"Uh… yes?"

"I love you, too. Thank you for calling, just… thank you…"

And then Spencer breathes, a full and deep breath that fills up her lungs and then steadily leaves through her lips – and there she sits, phone cradled to her ear and a smile plastered on her face… listening to Ashley talk about everything and anything.

And Spencer believes this to be the best night in her entire life.

*** *** ***

TBC


	17. That Means A Lot

April 12, 1965

_Spencer,_

_So, your favorite group in the entire world is playing on the wireless right now… I should be mad, you know, because now every time I hear those boys from Liverpool, I think of you and I can't turn the dial!_

_My poor ears, suffering this racket… _

_We are at the beach, my buddy Aiden and Kyla and I. Things are going okay with her. _

_Sometimes she looks at me and I think she is going to say something…or ask something… but she clams up and gets this funny expression on her face._

_She and I were never that close, but I'd hate it if she hated me… know what I mean?_

_If you were here, she'd have to get over it 'cause you are wonderful. I think she'd like you. I think everyone would… Wow, there I go, getting sappy again! Listening to The Beatles and talking a load of mush… no one would believe it!_

_Oh. Looks like Kyla is coming this way, so I guess I'll wrap this up._

_I just wanted to talk to you and there aren't any telephones in the sand… ha ha ha._

_Love you,_

_Ashley_

*** *** ***

"…You writing to her?" Kyla asks softly, not looking at Ashley but eyes trained towards the surf and Aiden still in the waves on that used board of his.

Ashley folds the letter and holds it gingerly in her hands, toes instinctively digging a little into the sand – a nervous habit, like she is a tiny creature trying to burrow away from some attack.

And she cannot seem to make her lips move, to form words, the two of them in silence as the water crashes onto the shore and other beachcombers laugh and the radio station moves on from the lads and to The Marlins.

_Thank __**goodness**__, that's more my style of music…_

Ashley nods her head to the music, allowing the twang of guitar to lighten her mood and give her some kind of confidence to speak up, keeping her gaze on the crisp piece of paper that she holds.

"Yea I am."

She catches Kyla's answering nod out of the corner of her eye, both of them staring elsewhere – like they don't know how to face each other anymore.

_And maybe we don't. Maybe we never will now that the truth is out there. God almighty… will it __**always**__ be two steps forward and fifty steps back in this life of mine?_

Ashley thinks of all the times where she has kept her feelings to herself – with Carol, with boys, with her father… _If you were here, I'd be brave, Dad… and I'd tell you so many things, I promise… _and it never seemed to make her life any better, all those lies and deceit.

And yet, telling the truth isn't setting her free, not really. She feels as stifled as before – not able to just yell out about this great love she is experiencing and how happy it makes her, how just a telephone call from Spencer Carlin is enough to set her heart to reeling…

"You know, you never really told me what you two talk about." Kyla's statement interrupts her thoughts and Ashley chances a glance at her sister, wondering if this is the opening to a real conversation about the elephant in the room (_or at the beach as it were…_).

"We talk about everything, Ky."

"…Like what?"

"I don't know… music and school… she tells me about her family a lot…"

"Has she… you know, **told** anyone…?"

When Kyla asks this, her voice drops once more and her eyes flick side-to-side, like someone might be listening in. Which, on the one hand, Ashley finds amusing (_like anyone would care what the two of us are talking about out here_)… but she understands it on a deeper level, the same level that kept her from admitting her strong like of girls and made her run around with guys when it was the last thing she wanted to do… Ashley gets that this topic is not one you can just say out loud.

And she feels it again, a faint stabbing at her gut, telling her that to love in partial sight is no better than loving in secret… _and I can't do a damn thing about it, can I?_

"No, don't think so."

"Oh. Okay."

"…You know, Ky, you can just ask me stuff, okay? I feel like… like you are just avoiding me sometimes and I don't like it."

"Well, **geez**, Ash, I wonder why?"

"C'mon Ky, cut it out!"

"**God**, keep your voice down!"

"Keep **your** voice down!"

Kyla is scowling and Ashley almost revels in it, because it is a normal occurrence and Ashley craves a bit of normalcy to return to their relationship.

Some wet sand hits her thigh and Kyla is sticking her tongue out and Ashley cannot help the grin that forms on her mouth.

_It might not be great, but I'd rather have this then nothing… _

And while Ashley would give anything to shout from every rooftop about Spencer, talking about the girl from Ohio on this beach with her sister isn't terrible either.

In fact, Ashley thinks it is quite nice and that sensation in her bones slowly fades to the background.

She tucks the letter safely in her beach-bag, keeping her movements slow so that her sister doesn't notice the retaliation coming… but then she is turning quickly, snagging Kyla's arms and jerking the girl upwards.

"**Ash**! Stop it! What are you **doing**? Let me go!" Kyla shouts and people stare for a moment and Ashley keeps dragging a fighting girl along the shore and back towards the ocean.

"**This** is what you get for hitting me with sand!" Ashley shouts and grins broadly as she halfway tackles her sister into the water, both of their heads going under in a flailing heap.

They splutter and thrash against one another, using their hands to create waves and smacking the sea into each other's faces – and Ashley catches it, right before a good bit of saltwater slaps into her eyes… she sees Kyla smiling and laughing, looking like a little girl she used to know.

_A little girl that my father told me to look after, to protect… and I will, Dad… just know that I am doing my best, okay? I am doing all I can._

Aiden walks over to them, board tucked under one arm and he shakes his head ruefully.

"You two look like drowned rats." The boy states.

"Wow, Aiden, you **really** know how to sweet talk don't you?" Ashley shoots back with an eye-roll, but Kyla subtly gets her attention and she sees her sister edging closer to the boy.

And Ashley smiles just a bit, mirroring the other girl's actions, so that they are quite suddenly on either side of Aiden.

He blinks and realizes all too late what is coming – he just has enough time to let his board go and try to back away, but it is all in vain. They both grab him and dunk him under the water, giggling the whole time.

And Kyla looks over and Ashley meets her gaze… and it is not perfect, they both know it, but it's not horrible either.

And Ashley reaches over, grabbing her sister's hand and squeezes it… and Kyla returns the gesture.

"It'll all be fine, Ky. I swear it."

"I **want** it to be, Ash, I really do."

"Then it will be."

They smile at each other, brief but genuine, and then let go – watching Aiden get up and grumble.

And they laugh all over again.

*** *** ***

"C'mon **Mom**!"

"**No**. And that's final. You've been out almost every night and I think it is time for you to spend an evening at home. Besides, your father and I will be out late for this office function and I'd like you to stay here with Spencer."

"Spencer can stay with herself!"

"**Glen**."

Arthur Carlin's voice cuts through the ongoing debate between son and mother. And Glen crosses his arms in a huff. And Paula Carlin rests her hand lightly on Arthur's shoulder, as if to say thank you.

And Spencer sits there at the dining table, wishing she were a million miles away, anywhere but here.

_Or better yet, in California._

That brings a slight smile back to her annoyed features and she looks around to see if anyone notices it.

But Glen is burning a hole into his empty dinner plate. And her mother is rushing upstairs to get ready for the night and her father is tapping out his pipe – which he rarely uses, but he once told them that it can be a good way of _'settling one's nerves'_.

For once, though, she agrees with her brother.

_Gosh, I am practically an adult! I can look after myself quite well… I don't __**need**__ a baby-sitter!_

In her mother's eyes, however, Spencer is still in pig-tails and short pants… and while both her parents have made concessions (_otherwise I wouldn't have that telephone in my room_), they still dote on her like she is five years old and precious…

…_and incapable of being on my own for a few hours…_

Spencer fully expects Glen to disregard the rules laid down by their mother, because that is what the boy tends to do. If Paula Carlin says not to do something, that is the very thing that Glen Carlin wants to do – movies, parties, girlfriends on the porch…

And now that she has had a taste of it herself, Spencer understands why her brother does such things.

She didn't used to, content to stay sheltered and removed from parts of life, following her mother's saintly decrees to the letter.

But then…

_Then came Ashley and what we'd talk about and I've not been the same since…_

She knows she is smiling again, unable to stop it these days at just the thought of the California girl, and it stays on her lips even as her parents are kissing her as they go out the door.

Glen had stomped off up to his room earlier, but once the house was parent-free, he came back down – still looking miffed.

"You should have been born a boy, Squirt, and then **I **wouldn't be stuck here." Glen says in a petulant tone.

"And **you** shouldn't have been born at all." Spencer tosses back, taking great delight in Glen's shocked look.

_Think you can keep calling me that and treating me like a little kid, hmm? Well, __**think again**__, big brother._

"That's it!" Glen hollers and Spencer knows it is too late to run, because he has snagged her up and is spinning her around, her whole body being jerked about.

"**Glen**! Put me **down**!"

"Nope!"

She tries to kick out at him, making some contact with his shoulders, but he doesn't let go.

Spencer squirms and slaps until Glen drops her to the floor, the boy chuckling so hard that his face is growing red with the effort.

"You **jerk**!"

"Oh man… your face… that was priceless…" He struggles to say that much over the laughter.

And Spencer gets up, shoving him hard in the process. Glen just grins at her and leans against the wall, both of them catching their breath.

"So, let's have a party."

"…**What**?"

"I can't go out and I want to have some fun, so I'll invite Lori over and Ricky and his pals."

"But what about—"

"Look, Spence, it'll all be cool. Just don't be a tattle-tell."

She glares at him until he holds up his hands in defense and then Spencer sighs, knowing that this is probably not a good idea at all. Their parents would flip out if they knew what Glen wanted to do and they'd both be grounded for life if caught.

_They would probably take away my telephone. And I couldn't live with that, not by a __**long**__ shot…_

"I don't know about this, Glen…"

"It will be a blast, Spence… stop being such a spoil-sport…"

And she wonders if her brother knows just how to push her buttons, how to set off her own insecurities at being the younger one and wanting to be older, if he knows how she longs to be free of her mother's restrictions and is getting more bold with each day… and, whether he is aware of it or not, it works like a charm.

"**Fine**. Okay."

"Great!"

Glen makes the calls and it isn't long before their den is full of about twenty kids, music loud from the hi-fi. People are dancing and somewhere along the way Glen is raiding their father's liquor cabinet.

Spencer takes a sip of something that burns her throat and she isn't sure she likes it, but she takes another sip… and then another… and then another.

And her body seems to float around, spinning to the sound of The Ronettes, their voices like echoes in her head.

'…_don't you you know how lonely I'm gonna be… don't leave me, baby… don't tell me it's over after I trusted you and did my best to make you happy… is this what I get for loving you?'_

Spencer feels warm and happy and like she is dreaming with her eyes open – her mind conjuring up images of golden shores and a raspy voice tickling her ears, the beating of her heart so loud that she is sure everyone in the house can hear it… each thump signed by Ashley Davies…

_Oh, how lovely it would be… if she were here, if she were just __**here**__… and I could finally have my first kiss, feel her lips on mine…_

Even though many other girls she knew had already had their first kiss, Spencer was waiting for true love to spark in her veins and for the moment to be special. All those boys that wanted to carry her books or dance with her, they were not 'the one'.

_And I've found the one now and she's going to get that first kiss…_

She thinks of old films and how they would always show a girl going into a swoon, faint with wanting, and that is how she feels right now – like she could pass out from this love and longing.

And she is still there, with her imaginary Ashley, when hands trip up her arms and pull her close.

She is still with Ashley, on a beach somewhere in California, when a mouth that smells like beer crashes onto her own.

And Spencer wakes up from her daydream, stumbling back from… _Ricky? _

He is smiling lazily and reaching out for her, but she moves further away. Her head is suddenly aching and she is knocking into people. The last thing she sees before a sick feeling wells up in her stomach is Glen punching Ricky right on the jaw.

And the sick feeling gets stronger.

And Spencer pushes away from everyone, staggering upstairs and into her room, shutting the door hard.

Her stomach clenches and cramps, but worse than that… _**so**__ much worse than that_… is the hazy recognition that something so wonderful has been stripped from her.

_Something that is was for her, __**only**__ for her… only for Ashley…_

Spencer isn't sure what is going on, her head feels heavy and light at the same time and there is this whirlpool inside that makes her feel like she is going to throw-up… and there are her thoughts, jumbled and raw, all about a kiss that should have been and the one that just happened… and Spencer finds herself crying, her body slumped against her bedroom door.

There is a knock at her door, Lori's muffled voice on the other side, but Spencer ignores it.

She ignores Lori and crawls over to the telephone, its soft blue color pulling her towards the girl of her dreams – awake or asleep – and her fingers are dialing the numbers that she has memorized.

*** *** ***

"Hello?"

"Oh _**Ash**_…"

"…Spencer? Is that you?"

"…"

"Spence? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

The concern just breaks Spencer wide open and she closes her eyes tightly, forcing every other sensation away and clinging to the care that Ashley is showing, trying to fashion it to her very soul.

"I think I'm drunk." Spencer says quietly and miserably. And she can almost hear Ashley release a shuddering breath, then comes a soft chuckle.

"Oh, is **that** all?"

"A boy kissed me."

And there is a silence that, to Spencer's muddled mind, seems to go on forever.

"…Oh." Ashley's voice is so small and distant and Spencer rushes her words out now, desperate to explain and to make sense.

"I **hated** it. I didn't want it and I was thinking about you, about how I want to kiss you… about how I want you to be my first kiss… and he ruined it, he absolutely **ruined** it… and Glen socked him. And I feel sick, I think from whatever it was I drank… but I just keep thinking that I'll never get that back, that kiss that I wanted with you and only you… Oh, Ashley, I've never wanted **anyone** the way I want you…"

A sob barrels its way out of Spencer's mouth then, coming from somewhere deep inside, and she cradles the receiver to her ear and the crying truly starts. And she can barely hear Ashley on the other end, repeating her name over and over, trying to get her attention.

"Spence, hey, please don't cry… c'mon, Spence, talk to me… please…?"

"I-I'm h-here…"

"So, uh, Glen knocked this guy out?"

"Y-Yes."

"**Good**."

"Are you m-mad at m-me?"

"I could never be mad at you…" Ashley's response is delicate and tender and Spencer is once again bowled over by affection, bigger than before and she didn't think that possible.

"I'm **so** in love with you." Spencer whispers, the stuttering due to sadness gone with this truthful admission – one that she has made before, but that now seems paramount in its importance… she wants Ashley Daives to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she belongs to the other girl.

There is no other that can ever lay claim to Spencer's heart, not ever.

And when Ashley speaks again, the diction is different, laced with a sureness that hid for a moment – maybe out of fear, maybe because it was used to doing so – but returned now with a simmering fervor.

"I know."

And Spencer finally smiles, curled up on the floor of her bedroom, receiver cradled like fine china in her hands. And when Ashley says the words back (_'I fall more in love with you each day…'_), Spencer allows that to wash away the events from earlier… knowing that there will come a day when she can get that actual 'first' kiss with the one she adores.

*** *** ***

April 21, 1965

_Dear Ashley,_

_I'll make a Beatles fan of you yet! Just you wait and see!_

_And give Kyla time… this is a big deal to her as much as it is to you. But she loves you and I believe that things will work out… for all of us. I have to believe that, Ashley… because…_

_Because loving you is the best thing in my life. You've brought more joy to me than I ever thought possible. And it can't be wrong… it just __can't __be._

_Everything I said a couple of nights ago is true. I am in love with you, from now until forever. _

_My heart is yours for as long as you want it. And I hope that that is for a long time._

_I was thinking… would you be willing to send a photograph of yourself? I'll send one of me, too. If you like. I just… I'd like to see you._

_My mother is calling us down for breakfast, so I have to go._

_I hope to talk to you tonight. _

_I love you._

_Spencer_

*** *** ***

**TBC**


	18. I'm In Love

Ashley asked about a million questions – what buttons to push and how long does it take for the photograph to develop and did she have to clean the camera on a regular basis (_because I can barely keep my room clean, not sure I could manage a device such as this_) – but the guy at Sears was adamant about it being simple and easy to use.

It was pricey. It was every coin saved and a late-night rummaging through Christine's purse. But if that is what it takes to be able to get a camera and send a snapshot of herself to Spencer, then so be it – _and I'd do it again and again if I had to._

She practiced by aiming and attempting to take a picture of the house from the driveway, gazing through the view-finder at the front door. And after shaking the photo, like the man said to do, she got the house… but not quite the way she planned.

_I was going for the door and I got… is that the hedge? Wait… no, that's the bay window… Dammit._

Of course, Ashley could have dug around for an old yearbook capture or swiped a picture from an album, but she felt like it had to be new – a new photo with a new camera… all for this new girl in her life, all for this new…

_C'mon, Ashley, you __**know**__ you want to say it… Relationship. This new affair of the heart. This new smile and this new laugh and this new feeling… God, I am __**such**__ a sap nowadays…._

Ashley trudges inside on this Sunday, school work forgotten and Christine already off flirting with her tennis instructor – _with my father barely gone, with his children right here… _But she forces those thoughts away, not wanting to be distracted from her mission to get a good photograph of herself and to send it along to Ohio.

She finds Kyla stomach-down on the floor of her bedroom, movie magazine spread out before her and Herman's Hermits causing the girl to bop her head side to side.

Ashley rolls her eyes at the 45 spinning and knocks on the door loudly, causing Kyla to jump and flash irritated eyes toward the doorway before going back to the magazine.

"Don't spook me like that, Ash! I know you do it on purpose."

"It wouldn't happen if you weren't such a scaredy-cat, Ky."

"I still remember that one night you hid in my closet and jumped out me with that bag over your head… I had nightmares for **weeks**!"

Ashley grins a bit at that particular memory – _Kyla was only seven or eight and boy was she terrified of ghosts and goblins, even though Dad kept telling her that monsters were not real and wouldn't be hiding under her bed… of course, he didn't say a thing about her closet…_

"Oh, that was ages ago, Ky…"

"What do you **want**, Ashley?"

"Take a picture of me."

"What?"

"A Polaroid photograph of me… My aim is awful and I need you to take it. I'll show you how, it's easy."

Kyla scrambles up and reaches out fast for the camera, but Ashley holds the camera to her chest protectively. Kyla makes a grab for it again and Ashley steps back, scowling.

"Well, I don't know what **that** look is for…"

"You are being too rough."

"I haven't even **touched** it!"

"Because you are being too… too… You know what? Never-mind. I'll ask Aiden to do it. He won't bounce around like you and break it."

"You'll probably break it **long** before I do!"

"No I won't!"

They glare at one another for a few moments and Kyla's bottom lip is starting to grow into a full pout and Ashley isn't even sure why they are arguing at all.

_All I want is for my silly picture to be taken so I can send it along to Spencer… and then see what she thinks of me… if she still likes me as much… loves me as much… Because, well, I'm not ugly or anything… but she might… she might not…_

Ashley heaves a sigh and hands over the camera, watching as Kyla takes it – _rather gingerly I might add_ – and as Kyla studies it.

"Sorry." Ashley mutters. And Kyla flicks an aloof gaze at her sister, but tugs the girl's arm anyway and asks Ashley to show her how to use the camera.

After a few shots, one where Kyla cut off Ashley's entire head and another that got more of Kyla's wall than of Ashley, they finally got one that worked.

Kyla sits the camera down softly upon her bed and picks up the one that Ashley deemed good enough to send along, admitting half-way through their impromptu photo shoot that this was for Spencer.

"You've got a nice smile, Ash."

"Oh. Thanks."

"…Do you think she'll like it?"

Ashley glances at Kyla's profile and she swallows hard, because that's what Ashley is wondering, too.

Wondering about and worrying about, all in one fell swoop – it is tying her up in knots, making her almost as nervous as she was the first time she called the girl in Ohio.

"…I hope so."

And Kyla grabs the camera again and she pulls Ashley close and she awkwardly holds the camera out in front of the two of them.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a picture of us. You can, you know, send it… if you want."

And Ashley blinks so slowly, as if she can actually feel her heart stop for a second and then lurch back to life, pounding louder than ever, pounding so hard and so fiercely that it brings tears to her eyes.

Tears that she tries to quickly wipe away and shove aside, but they linger still – actual tears of happiness and of relief…

"Now smile!" Kyla says, pressing the button and they are surrounded by a white flash.

And after they shake the photograph, watching the image bleed into clarity – two sisters, heads close and shoulders touching, one with a cheesy grin and the other with an almost watery smile… well, Ashley isn't sure she wants to send this one to Ohio.

She might want to keep it for her very own.

***

May 9, 1965

_Spencer,_

_So, here it is… Kyla took this photograph of me just yesterday. I couldn't seem to take a picture to save my life, so I asked for her help._

_I hope you like it. I hope… I don't know what I hope for exactly._

_Anyway, write back soon and call even sooner. You owe me a picture, Spencer Carlin. I'll be waiting to catch a look at you, okay?_

_Love,_

_Ashley_

***

TBC

**Sorry that the update is so short – my computer is having seizures and I think dying on me. So I am keeping updates to a minimum on this fic, because I never know when my PC will stop working. But rest assured that when I have the time and the capabilities, updates will continue.**

**Thanks for all continued reading! It is appreciated. **


	19. It Won't Be Long

**So, my PC did die and I've been fairly removed from the internet – minus some brief trips to the local library, wherein I spend most of my time checking/replying to emails and reading other people's stories (been missing my daily dose of SoN fanfiction). **

**But I have a moment to myself on another person's computer and here is an update - hope it does not suck royally 'coz it might be fairly short. Sorry!**

**And thanks for the continued patience!**

///

Spencer has kept a diary all her young life – the first one given by her father when she was only nine years old, the pages quickly filled up with silly little moments… like when Glen got a tooth knocked out and she was jealous of the Tooth Fairy visiting him at night, leaving him a shiny quarter… or all the things she got up to on her summer break from elementary school, ushered off to camp with all the other good Christian girls and the hymns they'd all sing and how she would watch other girls – more daring girl who were less about tattered bible verses and more about fun – jump into the lake with their skirts off.

And when she reached the end of that particular diary, the very day she turned thirteen, she asked for a new one – which she got, leather the color of a ripe apple and with a gold lock upon it – and Spencer wrote about school and more summers spent with the sisters.

But she was always hesitant to put down anything more personal than that.

Partly because she just knew that Glen would snoop around, just because he could, and all her friends who kept diaries said that brothers loved to steal glances at such things… and Spencer didn't want anyone to know her private thoughts.

_Unless I want a person to know about them, unless I want to share those thoughts with someone…_

But with only about fifty pages left in this diary, Spencer looks back briefly over the most recent months and every inner working of her mind is revealed on the pages – her fears, her wants, her doubts, her joys… and the name Ashley Davies pops up quite frequently.

_Or, rather, on almost every single line… No, can't let Glen see this at __**all**__…_

She thinks of Ashley's sister, Kyla… _the original recipient of that first letter_… and how Ashley had to have been so brave to tell someone the truth of her feelings… and Spencer feels a kind of desperate envy beat in her chest, churn in her gut.

This isn't the first time she's pondered just saying it – 'I love Ashley', out loud, to her brother. Or to Lori. Or to her father. In all those musings, though, she never imagines speaking those words to her mother.

Paula Carlin can be kind and can be very giving, but behind those blue eyes is quite the stern woman.

And as much as Spencer wants to tell everyone she meets about this love bursting in her body, Spencer cannot lose Ashley – and she surely would if Paula Carlin ever caught wind of things as they truly are.

_She'd condemn me. She'd take the phone away. I'd lose it all… and I __**can't**__ lose it all… I can't lose my family and I can't lose Ashley… God, you've put me in a fine mess, one I wouldn't change… and yet… I'd love to make it different…_

But keeping quiet is never an easy thing.

And Spencer Carlin has spent years and years being silent – lips closed in the pews when other kids fidgeted around, complaints kept to herself when Glen would pout or back-talk, desires hidden away while other girls fluttered eyelids and took boys' arms – and now she'd really like to let it all out.

Now she would really enjoy setting loose that full-blown grin, not in the confines of her bedroom and with the door firmly shut, but out there in the world… giddy and pure… accepting this gift from God in the form of Ashley Davies…

…_This lovely, lovely girl with the wavy hair and bright smile and eyes of brown that I can still see even though this photograph is in black-and-white…_

The moment the small note arrived, Spencer rushed upstairs, ignoring her mother calling out about helping clear the table and wash the dishes. She shut her door and calmed her breathing and peeled back the envelope flap with care.

Because she knew what would be in this missive and it required the upmost gentleness.

And her delicate touch was reward… because there was Ashley Davies.

And Spencer Carlin couldn't look away, didn't **want** to look away.

She studied the slant of the jaw and the openness of that grin, the full bottom lip and the clasped hands resting in the lap.

Spencer raked her gaze over and over the picture until her eyes literally ached.

And she wanted to call the girl, but her father had expressed that she keep the calls to a minimum for a while (_he said I was going to put us in the poor house…_).

Now she sits, quiet when she wants nothing more than to be loud, dreamily staring at a photograph of Ashley… knowing that when she finally has to put it down and sleep, it will be tucked in the pages of her diary, surrounded by all the entries about Ashley, surrounded by Spencer's unending love.

And it might not be a cry to the heavens, but it'll do.

_For now…_

///

May 14, 1965

_Dear Ashley,_

_My father has told me to stay off the phone for a while, so I had to stop myself from calling you up anyway. Because I got your letter and the photograph of you…_

…_You are beautiful. I don't think I've ever said that about anyone._

_I want to give you a recent picture of me, too, but… well, I'd have to explain why I want one of my parents to take it and I just wouldn't know what to say._

_I want to tell them like you've told your sister, I really do. But I can't. Not yet._

_Does that disappoint you? I know I feel sort of sad about lying to them about something that makes me so happy… about __someone __that makes me so happy._

_I want to talk about you all the time. You are my favorite subject, Ashley Davies._

_Enclosed is a photograph from the summer camp, the one where I got to start the pen-pal program. The girl on my right is Megan and the girl on my left is Patricia. That's me in the center._

_I hope you like it._

_And I love you. Thank you so much!_

_Love,_

_Spencer_

///

**TBC**


	20. Love Me Do

**Got my PC back! I do not have Word, though. I have WordPad. If the formatting is shit, that is why. Sorry in advance!**

_'...oh now I know I love you so...I need your love oh so much... be mine and mine alone...'_

Kyla's complaints were easy to ignore this particular evening. Normally, once her sister started whining and pouting, banging on the door or rolling her eyes - well, Ashley would just have to respond.

_And usually that response would be the two of us fighting._

When they were little kids, 'fighting' really meant a physical altercation. Now, they trade barbs and quips and insults. But not tonight, Ashley decides. She is too happy and too in love to engage in such things with Kyla.

All she wants to do is keep playing her Cleftone's 45 and sing along to the tune and gaze happily at the picture that one Spencer Carlin sent her.

The letter was waiting just inside the front door when she lazily walked in from school. And Ashley snatched it up quick, bypassing Kyla's knowing glance and not even listening to Christine call out from the kitchen (_nothing that woman says matters much to me anyway..._). She ran up the stairs and into her bedroom, shutting the door.

And she slowly lowered her knees to the floor, tearing the envelope open with ease, holding off on the letter... all to see the photograph first, wanting to finally see the face of the girl who has captured her heart with just a voice, with just words on a piece of paper...

_You just had to throw me a curve ball, didn't you, Spence..._

Ashley flicked her eyes between the three girls in the picture - studied each face and felt her own eyebrows narrow in concentration, trying to figure out by smiling visage alone which one was Spencer... sure that she could pick the girl out, that her heart would just know on sight by virtue of their love...

_Oh jeez, I sound like such a dope! I hope I never say any of this out loud to anyone or I'll never be able to face them again!_

But Ashley knows that, given half the chance to say these kinds of things to Spencer, she would do it in a heart-beat. She'd spill every love-soaked confession at the girl's feet, eagerly and willingly - even if it did make her look like the biggest sap alive.

She looked and looked and stared and pondered, but finally broke down and read the letter, hoping for a sign. And once she knew for sure - because the girl in Ohio had never divulged a single trait of her appearance in all their talks - Ashley took a deep breath and really looked at Spencer Carlin.

The black-and-white of the photograph somehow did not dull the girl's features one bit. Ashley could still catch the flash of light in her hair, knowing then and there that it was blonde. Compared to the other two girls, whose hair and eyes were dark, Spencer stood out like sunlight against the night - light eyes and light hair, fair skin that appeared so smooth...

...And Ashley just couldn't look away after that.

So, she put a record on and she softly sings along and she looks at Spencer. Kyla's pounding on the door drifts away and any thoughts of homework just die - the world could spin out of control and Ashley would be none the wiser.

_Boy, she's beautiful. __**Really **__beautiful._

"Ashley, if you don't give it a rest, I swear!"

But Ashley can only smile wider, finding nothing but humor in Kyla's annoyance.

Because she has a picture of her girl - her Spencer - and life is truly good.

May 21st, 1965

_Spencer,_

_If I am beautiful, then you must be... God, is there a word for someone beyond beautiful? Because that is what you are. _

_Thank you so much for the photograph! I can't stop looking at you... Really and truly, it's like my eyes are glued to you. Silly, I know... but I just love you. __A lot__._

_And I could never be disappointed in you, Spencer. I'd love it if we could tell everyone about us, but we can't. I just got lucky with Kyla is all. Just know that if you do tell anyone... well, I am here for you no matter what, okay? And if you never tell a single soul, it doesn't matter to me._

_I'll love you whether anyone knows about us or not._

_I don't want you to get in trouble with your folks, so I'll call you this time, okay?_

_Love you Spence,_

_Ashley_

_P.S. - I've probably already called you by the time you get this!_

Spencer grins as she reads the letter for the second time, growing more giddy with each minute that goes by, all because of Ashley's words.

_She thinks I am beautiful. She thinks I am __**beyond**__ beautiful. That's just... just... wow, that's just the tops..._

A deep and happy sigh passes her lips as she lowers the letter to her chest, clutching it close - almost hugging it to her, wishing it was the girl in California instead of a sheet of stationary. But if letters and phone-calls are all they can have (_for now..._) then Spencer Carlin won't be complaining.

They have talked three times before the letter even arrived and each time was better than the last, full of laughter and sweet nothings. And Spencer found herself recognizing certain things whenever Ashley would speak - how the girl's tone would grow warm and low when saying something endearing. Or how it would become slightly higher in pitch when joking around or when excited. She liked being able to pick up on these things... she likes knowing Ashley, not just how she looks and not just the bands she enjoys...

_But everything. I like knowing every single thing about her._

The giddiness is flooded Spencer's body to the point of no return and she cannot help herself - she gets up and sneaks over to her hidden stash of 45's, the ones that she forced Glen to share... and knowing that, at least for one more hour she will be the only one in the house, she puts on The Orlons.

And she dances around her room, not even attempting any of the moves to the real Watusi. But she is having a good time anyway, holding that letter in her hand and imagining that it is Ashley's hand instead.

_'...come on and hold me like a lover should... the Watusi makes you feel so good...'_

On one of her spins around, though, Spencer catches the chuckling face of her brother and she comes to a complete halt.

"Glen! Get out!"

"And miss the show? No way, Spence... you could be on American Bandstand..."

But his laughter only grows and she can feel the heat on her face as sure as if she were standing in hot summer sun. Spencer stalks over to her little record player and shoves the needle away. She points angrily toward the hallway.

"Get. Out.** Now**." She spits out, more upset at being caught unawares than anything else. _And a little embarrassed, too, at him seeing me dance around like that_.

"What's that?"

Spencer rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

"What's what, Glen?"

"In your hand? Is that a letter?"

And Spencer sort of freezes, not knowing how to answer... not wanting to answer at all. But if she doesn't answer, then she knows that Glen will literally chase her around the house just to look at what she tries to conceal.

_God, what would happen... if I just... told him? Would he hate me? Would he tell father? Mother? Would __**they**__ hate me? ...Do I dare risk it?_

Spencer swallows hard and almost says it... almost forces the words out, the unvarnished truth - 'I am in love with Ashley Davies, a girl' - but those very words get lodged in her throat and Glen's eyes are still full of mirth over her silly goofing around... and she can't do it.

Her shoulders imperceptably sag and she half-smiles.

"Just from a pen-pal. One I got through camp."

He isn't listening anymore, not really, and Spencer breathes a little easier now that his focus is roaming around - blue gaze much like her own just skimming over her room in boredom.

"Wanna go see a movie?" Glen suddenly asks and Spencer blinks rapidly.

"Aren't you going out with Lori?"

"Nope. She's got to go to some family thing with her folks."

"Ricky?"

"After what he pulled with you, he's lucky I don't pound him into next year."

Spencer blushes, again, but from a sense of pride. Glen teases her and taunts her, treats her like such a child so often... but then, out of nowhere, there he is - punching some boy who got too close and Spencer loves her brother all the more for it.

"Okay. Sure, I'd love to."

"Hurry up then. I won't wait for you."

And his feet thunder down the stairs. And Spencer quietly hides her letter in her diary. And she glances briefly at the photograph - a smiling Ashley, lovely and wonderful...

_I want to tell someone, Ashley... I really do... I just can't keep this in forever..._

And she wonders if, over popcorn and candy, that it just might slip on out of her mouth.

She wonders if Glen will love her and defend her still if he knows her deepest and most cherished secret.

_Or would I lose __**everything**__ I love?_

**TBC**


	21. PS I Love You

_"I meant what I said in the letter, Spence. You don't have to tell anyone. I don't care."  
"I know. But I do, I care... you are so wonderful and I __**want **__to tell people about you..."  
"Well, of __**course **__you want to tell everyone - I am the bees knees."_

_Spencer laughs and closes her eyes, loving the sound of Ashley right before she goes to sleep. Since her father's request of 'no more calls to California for a while', Ashley has taken it upon herself to call every other night - no matter the hour, no matter the cost._

_And Spencer loves the girl all the more for it._

_"I read an interview with the lads today."  
"Ooh, anything good?"  
"No, not at all."  
"Ash..."_

_The girl laughs and Spencer grins to herself. Of all the things they have shared - their family stories, their hopes and dreams, all the thoughts of their ever-changing youth - they always bring up the topic that sort of brought them together._

_The Beatles._

_"They'll be doing a tour of the States later this year."  
"Really?"  
"Yep. I am sure Kyla will drag me to one of their shows, which will be so boring."  
"I'd trade places with you any day!"  
"I know... I must really love you to put up with all this Beatles-talk..."  
"Yea, you must..."_

_And they are silent. And it is perfect. And they both know it._

_"I'd go if I were with you, though."  
"Gosh, that would be grand, wouldn't it?"  
"We could meet up... if you want... if you could, you know..."_

_And Spencer wants to jump at the chance, wants to more than anything - more than even seeing The Beatles at all. But she can't see how to make it happen. Her parents would never go for it. And she doesn't have a car. Or money._

_She sighs and Ashley says her name so sweetly, dragging her attention back to the present._

_"Maybe one day... right?" Spencer whispers.  
"Definitely, Spence. Definitely."_

/ / /

Spencer Carlin thinks, for a moment, that she can split all her young life between not knowing Ashley Davies and then knowing Ashley Davies - of not knowing the sound of Ashley's voice over the phone-line to hearing that same voice all the time, ringing in her ears the way crickets sing all night... Of not knowing the words from a girl's heart, all the way from California... to knowing every single sentence and every single declaration, ink pressed deep into paper...

Before Ashley Davies, Spencer was content to just live quietly - to do well in school, to obey every rule at home, to run with the other girls at camp and pray at night... And she would have done all those things, too.  
She would have simply gone from bright to dull, slowly and surely, getting older without a second of really living.  
After Ashley Davies, though... well, she cannot imagine a world without Ashley in it - a world without that laugh, throaty and full... or without that whisper, sweet and warm... Spencer cannot go back to that old world, not anymore, not now that she has tasted the freedom that comes from falling in love.

And with that taste comes the craving for more, always for more.

/ / /

Elvis is shaking his hips on the screen and, if it were just last year, Spencer would have felt the need to be shy about such things. But that was before talking to Ashley and sneaking out of the house with Glen and listening to all the music that her mother held such disdain for.

Before, Spencer felt like a child. Now, she feels older. More experienced.

_And seeing some man do... what Elvis is doing... well, it's not that shocking, is it?_

Still, she stifles a giggle anyway and pops a Banana Split into her mouth. And Glen sort of elbows her, palm up-turned and waiting. She rolls her eyes in the dark.

"It's rude not to at least ask, Glen."  
"And it's rude to not at least offer first, Squirt."

But she hands him one and he barely takes the time to remove the wax wrapper, shoving it into his mouth as his eyes never leave the screen.  
And Spencer turns back to the movie, knowing that eventually the girl will fall for Elvis and he will fall for her and a happily ever after is just around the corner.

And there it is again, bubbling up in her body like water on the stove-top, the urge to speak of her heart and how it feels.

_To tell someone about Ashley. To tell someone about how good it is. To tell someone about this love that is taking me over._

She darts a look over to Glen - her brother, her protector..._ sometimes a real pain in the you know what, too... _and she wonders for the millionth time if she can say the words, if she can just turn to him and say it.  
But she is scared, terribly so. So scared of what he might say or might do... worried that her parents would..._ I don't even know what they would do, but I can't imagine it would be good..._

And still, in this movie theater and the lights finally going up and the shuffling of feet behind the two of them and Glen grinning at her... Spencer thinks that, just maybe, it wouldn't go as bad as she fears.

_Maybe it'll be alright._

And so she just keeps picturing Ashley's face - smiling and still, as pretty as a summer day - and as Glen walks beside her, Spencer works up her nerve.

They didn't have the car tonight. They cross the various streets, with Glen humming some of the tunes from the movie and Spencer decides to take her chance while she can manage it.

"Glen..."  
"What?"  
"Are you... in love with Lori?"

He shoves his hands in his coat pockets, the letterman jacket from last year - the one he cherishes and won't let anyone else even touch, and shakes his head.

"Geez, Spence, you see one dopey Elvis flick and it's love-birds for you."  
"No, Glen, I--"  
"Besides, you're too young to understand such things, Squirt."

Spencer stops all movement and it takes a full minute for Glen to notice, to spin around with an eyebrow raised.

"Hey, c'mon, we gotta get home."  
"I am not some little girl, Glen. Stop treating me like one."  
"Yea, okay, Spence--"  
"No, I mean it... I 'understand' things, Glen. I am **not** a child."

They face each other on the sidewalk, with only a few cars going by - probably leaving the theater like them, heading home after a night of entertainment - not even seeing two siblings as they stand motionless.

"Spencer... are you dating some guy?" Glen asks in a firm voice.  
"...What?"  
"Lori mentioned it and I told her that was nuts... but **are** you? Is that who you are calling all the time?"

Spencer feels her stomach kind of heave, from fear and from anticipation, and she clenches her fists to stop her legs from trembling. And she is once again torn between blurting it all out and wanting to run away, run back home and pretend this conversation never even occurred.

"No, I'm not calling a boy." Spencer says softly. And it seems as though her brother allows a sigh of relief, his over-protective nature calming down.  
"Good. I can't go knocking the lights out of another one."

And Glen winks at her, smiling once more, waving her forward.  
And Spencer feels, more than anything, as if the weight of her unspoken love has gotten heavier.

/ / /

June 1st, 1965

_Dear Ashley,_

I almost told Glen about you... about us. But I chickened out. _Again__._

_I know you said you don't care if I ever tell anyone. And yet, I feel strange. As if I am lying to everyone all the time. I don't like it. But I am not sure what to do. I don't want to lose you and I don't want to anger my family either._

_Why must this be so impossible?_

_Ashley... is it really... I mean, can we actually meet one day? I want that more than anything. It's like every day that goes by finds me wanting to see you more and more.  
When we are not talking, I am thinking about you constantly.  
I suppose this is why they call it being smitten._

_I love you, Ashley. Write back soon._

_Love,  
Spencer_

/ / /

Ashley Davies thinks, for a moment, that she can split all her young life between not knowing Spencer Carlin and then knowing Spencer Carlin - of not knowing the dulcet tones of Spencer's voice over the phone-line to that same voice being all Ashley desires to hear, the finest strain of a gorgeous melody... Of not knowing the language of girl's heart, all the way from Ohio... to knowing every single secret and every single tender admission, sealed in a blue envelope...

Before Spencer Carlin, Ashley was content to just get by - ready to play in a world of make-believe, ready to live a life of no love at all... It would have been more random boyfriends, with their hands inching around her waist and drive-ins with fogged up windows.  
Ashley would have drifted for years and years, waking up one day with nothing to show for herself - just dreams left to rot, just longings left in the dark.  
After Spencer Carlin, though... well, she cannot imagine this world without Spencer in it. Ashley cannot imagine her own life without that spark of affection - spilling out from a blonde-haired beauty hundreds and hundreds of miles away - and the way it makes her head spin in happiness.

And surely Ashley is spinning too fast, but it is worth it... Spencer Carlin is always worth it.

/ / /

Aiden and Kyla are making eyes at each other. And if Ashley wasn't so consumed with her own thoughts, she'd probably make a show of gagging - just to bug them both. But as Aiden shares his milkshake and Kyla blushes while talking non-stop, Ashley is plotting.

Spencer's letter sits in her bedroom, on top of her nightstand, and if anyone were to ask what was upon that piece of stationary... _I could recite it, line for line._

The usual internal chastisement kicks up in Ashley's mind, with terms like 'sap' and 'moony-eyed dope' popping up, but she ignores them. She has bigger fish to fry.

_And it will require help._

"I'm thinking of selling my car." Ashley pipes up, earning a shocked look from the two people sharing this booth with her.  
"But you love that car." Aiden states with his brow furrowed in confusion.  
"You love it more than **me**, Ash... why would you want to sell it?" Kyla asks, looking more suspicious than concerned. Ashley just rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her Coke.

"It's just a car, Ky. I don't want it anymore. So, Aiden... know anyone who might be interested?"  
"Sure, Ash. It's a pretty ace ride. Lots of guys would love to have it."  
"Great. Spread the word."

She smiles at her sister and her best friend, sipping on her soda some more. But Kyla keeps looking at her, like she is searching for the deeper meaning to Ashley's actions.

_Of course, she's not wrong, is she? I do have something up my sleeve..._

"Aiden, would you get me another shake? I'd love a chocolate one."  
"But we've not even finished this one..."  
"Please?"

Ashley doesn't hold back from gagging this time and Aiden has the good grace to flush a little bit at the fact that he'll go get anything Kyla wants. Kyla just smiles sweetly until the boy is up and gone from the table, then those dark eyes are on Ashley in a flash.

"What's going on, Ashley? You told me that you'd **never** let that car go."  
"...Some things are more important, Ky."  
"Like what?"

And Ashley pictures Spencer's face, caught in time like the photograph she loves to stare at at night, and the smile is soft on her lips.  
Kyla sighs heavily in response.

"Is this about** her**?"

And Ashley doesn't want to deny it, so she just nods her head in the affirmative.

"Why?"  
"Because she wants to see me."  
"**Excuse **me? Wait, are you saying--"  
"I've got this really good plan and I need some money."  
"Ashley... selling your **car**? Just to go see some **girl**?"  
"You don't get it, Kyla."  
"I don't get what? That you've lost it?"  
"Spencer is... she's more important than four-wheels. And I don't want to wait any longer. I don't think I **can**."

But she can see that Kyla does not understand it at all. Aiden is getting closer, weaving his way through all the other kids their age, quietly singing along to the juke-box as it plays Petula Clark's 'I Know A Place'.  
And Ashley sings along, too.

_'...I know a place where the music is fine and the lights are always low... I know a place where we can go...'_

"What exactly are you going to do?" Kyla hisses out quickly. And Ashley grins, her mind already imagining the moment that she and Spencer actually meet... and how wonderful it will be.

"We are going to see The Beatles."

/ / /

**TBC**


	22. Every Little Thing

It's not that she doesn't want to sell her car, but no one seems good enough for it. At least that is what Ashley keeps telling a clearly frustrated Aiden on this lovely Saturday morning.

The first guy looked like he just rolled out of a ditch. The second guy was eating a doughnut... _and I'm not letting a boy who eats like __**that**__ drive off in my beautiful car._  
The third fellow to approach them seemed alright, at first, but the jerky way he drove nearly gave Ashley whip-lash.  
She just glared at him, with her arms crossed, as he walked away - shaking his head and muttering about 'dames who don't know good driving'.

"C'mon Ash, **someone** has to buy your car if you are serious about selling it..." Aiden says, wiping at his brow in the already hot sun. Ashley merely shrugs her shoulders, glad her sunglasses are on and she can roll her eyes as much as she likes.  
She **wants **to sell her car. It is part of her big plan, her 'Operation See Spencer Carlin' plan.  
Of course, Aiden doesn't have a clue about any of this.  
He's just being a good friend and wasting a day off, trying to help her out.

_Too bad he can't afford to buy my car. I'd trust him with it._

But a boy who cleans pools after school cannot pay what this set of wheels is worth. And Ashley needs every nickle and dime to make her dream a reality.  
She and Spencer have talked throughout the weeks... and, yet, Ashley has not divulged her little plot.  
She says to herself that it is because... _well, what if I can't sell the car? What if I can't get the money and I've told Spencer and she gets all disappointed? Can't have that, can I?_

But the truth of the matter is that Ashley fears her own disappointment.  
She fears that, even with putting everything into motion, it will not happen.  
Because she knows Spencer's family, through letters and calls, she knows what they are like and she knows just what she is up against.  
She knows that Arthur Carlin is good and kind and wise. She knows that Paula Carlin is a stickler for rules and doesn't like cool music. She knows that Glen can be a pain, but obviously loves his little sister.  
And Ashley knows, somewhere in her gut, that getting to meet Spencer Carlin will require more than cash and a concert - it'll require a miracle.

A couple more boys come and go and Ashley sighs unhappily.

"I guess we will call it a day." She mumbles, opening the driver side door and Aiden eagerly climbs into the passenger side. But someone is crossing towards them and she glances back up. And Ashley tilts her head to the side curiously as the person gets closer, smiling and pointing to the black Flat Black Coupe de Ville.

"My brother mentioned you are looking to sell... I'm not too late, am I?"

And Ashley allows a small grin to grace her lips, because she has a feeling that she has found just the person to 'give' her car to.

_Because it is a girl. And that must be some kind of sign, right? A good sign..._

"No, you're not too late. I was just about ready to give up on finding anyone."  
"Yea, my brother said you were being stubborn, but I just told him that he can't drive worth a darn and probably scared you off."

Ashley laughs at this, knowing it must be the guy with the lead-foot - both on the gas and the brakes. She puts her hand out and the girl returns the favor, a good solid shake as introduction are made.

"The name's Carmen."  
"I'm Ashley. And the boy watching us talk is my friend Aiden."

They both look over at him and he gives a sheepish looking wave. Ashley motions for Carmen to get behind the wheel and give the car a test drive.  
And the girl really knows how to handle an automobile. Even Aiden looks taken aback as the girl rattles off tidbits of knowledge, from engine blocks to pistons and things that Ashley doesn't even have a clue about.

"Wow, you **really** know your stuff..." Aiden says and Carmen smiles.  
"My father works on cars a lot. So does my brother."  
"Is that because he causes a lot of the problems to the cars?" Ashley pipes up from the back-seat and Carmen chuckles.

The three of them cruise around a bit and then finally return to the parking lot, the radio still playing the 'Bristol Stomp' as Carmen puts the car in park and turns around to face Ashley.

"How much you asking?"

Ashley takes a deep breath, because this is it.  
This is the moment where she will either walk away with part of the miracle she is looking for... or walk away with her car and not much else.  
She pictures Spencer's face and can easily pull up the sound of Spencer's voice. She imagines being able to actually reach out and touch the girl from Ohio - the one girl Ashley would give up damn near everything for... _and what a terrifying and amazing feeling that is_... and Ashley draws confidence from the love she allows to fill up her body, the love she allows to flourish.

"I've kept it in great condition, so... four thousand."  
"That's almost the dealer price."  
"Yep."  
"No chance of knocking some more off?"

Aiden is giving her this look and she knows that he would just let the price go down a bit, maybe take three or two thousand. But Ashley has the plan to think about (_my wonderful and crazy plan that not even Kyla knows all the details of..._)  
And she has to have some way of getting another car later on...

..._Because I won't be the girl hitching rides with my pal and my annoying sister for the rest of my life..._

"Nope. Sorry." Ashley states and Aiden shakes his head slightly, as if she just made the worst decision ever, and Carmen is biting her bottom lip in thought.  
"Can I call you next week with an answer?"  
"Sure, that's fine."

They exchange numbers and Ashley gets in the driver's seat, coasting along the highway in relative silence. The radio is turned down low and Aiden is oddly quiet.  
But then she feels the boy's gaze on her and Ashley does what she does best - she rolls her eyes in an annoyed manner.

"What?"  
"...Why are you selling your car, Ash?"  
"Just because."  
"But, that girl was ready to buy and you just-"  
"Look, Aiden, I... I can't explain it all, but I need that money, okay? I just need it and that's that."

They are quiet for another moment or two, then Aiden speaks up again.

"You in some kind of trouble?"  
"No."  
"Is Kyla in trouble?"  
"**No**."  
"Is your mother-"  
"Jeez, Aiden, drop it will you? **No one **is in trouble."

The boy looks suitably chastised and Ashley runs her fingers through her hair, knowing that she is being unfair to Aiden... but knowing that she cannot just tell him what she is up to.  
_He'd probably flip out and then where would that leave me? I'd lose one of my only friends for good._  
Instead, as they near his house, she lets the car idle and lightly pats his shoulder.

"Thanks for today. All those guys were stupid and they probably would have bugged me all afternoon had you not been there."  
"Yea, well, that's what friends are for, right?"  
"Right."

And she smiles. And Aiden smiles, too.  
That's what she likes about the boy most of all - despite their odd past with each other, he is there for her, through thick and thin. And one day, she'll return the gesture with some honesty. Ashley's only hope is that they will still be friends after the dust settles.

"Call Kyla! She is probably waiting by the phone!" Ashley taunts as she slowly pulls away and Aiden shakes his head with a grin.  
And she knows he will call her sister. And it makes Ashley happy - her best friend and her sister, together. Someone she can trust to take care of Kyla, to be there for the younger girl in ways that Ashley cannot.  
And as she drives home, some random song soft in the background, Ashley thinks about the two things missing from this day: Spencer Carlin and her father.

But surely her father is watching from somewhere, pleased as punch that both of his daughters are alright.  
And surely, out there in Ohio, Spencer Carlin is waiting by a phone, too.  
Waiting for Ashley Davies to call.

_And if I get my way, Spencer, all of our waiting will soon end._

/ / /

And Carmen called. And the girl was willing to pay the four thousand asked.

Ashley trembles as she hands over the keys, not that sad at seeing the car roll away - the car she got as a 'gift', all that time ago, when parents forgot a birthday and she benefited from their guilt. The memories she has attached to the Coupe are fond, but not earth-shattering.

See, Ashley trembles because she now has the means to make things happen.

She now has the means to truly meet Spencer Carlin...

_... and that means everything to me..._

/ / /

"I've missed you." Spencer says quietly over the phone and isn't at all surprised by how much she means the words she says.  
They speak to each other almost every day, but it still does not feel like enough.

_I'm not sure what could ever be enough, though... Is there ever going to be enough of Ashley for me?_

The thought is so strong that Spencer feels simply bowled over by it. The love she feels is powerful, rocking through her body in constant jolts. And Spencer cannot ever go back to how she once was - shy and following every rule - she can't go back and she doesn't want to.  
Not ever.

"Is that so?" Ashley replies and Spencer just knows the California girl is grinning.  
_And fishing for compliments, too...  
_"Uh huh..." Spencer confirms with a small smile of her own popping up on her face.  
"Good. 'Coz I know I missed you all day."

And there it goes, that smile, shifting from tiny to full-blown - just like that, from good to absolutely great.  
But then Ashley has that effect on Spencer.  
One tender admission and Spencer is awash with affection, barely able to contain herself... wishing she could just close her eyes and soar to the west coast on her longing alone...

_And I'd open my eyes and there you'd be, Ashley... right in front of me and I could finally hold you, finally... finally __**kiss**__ you..._

To say that Spencer Carlin's thoughts about Ashley were taking a turn for the decidedly unchaste would be an understatement. In fact, she has caused her own cheeks to turn red with her rambling daydreams - having to cover it up as too much sun or something equally silly when caught by her mother or father.  
But being caught, so to speak, has not stopped her from thinking about kissing Ashley.

_Or about thinking of... more than just kissing..._

She can feel the heat rising on her skin, racing up her neck and leaving her flush. Spencer clears her throat, tuning back into Ashley as the girl talks randomly about some class she dislikes.

"And so I just ditched."  
"Ash, you shouldn't do that..."  
"Aww, c'mon, Spence... why would I want to listen to some old guy talk about the war of 1812 when I could soak up some rays?"  
"...Yea, I guess you've got a point there."

They both giggle and Spencer feels the blush slowly fade away and she sighs contentedly. They are both silent and Spencer thinks she can hear the girl breathing, warm and sure over the line, and it warms Spencer's heart like nothing else.

"Uh, Spence?"  
"Hmm?"  
"So, I am sending a letter out to you tomorrow and I just... well, when you get it... Just promise me that you'll really think about what it says, okay?"

Spencer blinks a bit at this change of tone, from fun to serious, and she can feel her brow crease in confusion.

"Is everything alright, Ashley? Did something happen?"  
"No, everything is great. **Really** great. Just... just read the letter and you'll know what is going on, Spence."  
"...Okay..."

They say their good-nights and Spencer turns off her light, settling down to sleep. But her mind won't stop pondering, wondering what could possibly be in this letter that Ashley is sending out.

_She said really great, so it can't be bad... but I still feel anxious for some reason... Something in her voice, she sounded nervous almost..._

Spencer knew that getting any kind of rest would be hard tonight.  
Between thinking about the letter that would be winging its way to her shortly and the non-stop thoughts about Ashley in general... well, it is any wonder that Spencer got any sleep at all.  
But at the sounds of Glen sneaking back in late, like usual after some date with Lori, her eyes shut.  
And, like usual, she dreams of one Ashley Davies.

/ / /

June 16, 1965

_Spencer,_

_I am just going to dive right in, okay? _

_I'm sitting here, in my room, looking at exactly four thousand dollars. I sold my car. And I wanted to sell my car because... Because I need to see you.  
And I know you want to see me, too.  
So, I have this idea and I know it'll sound completely bonkers, but please __please__ don't write it off, okay? Promise me?_

_You said you'd love to see the lads and now we can do that. Together. They won't be in Ohio and they will be in California, but that is ages away... They will be in New York, though.  
That's their first show of the tour actually.  
I can get our tickets. And Kyla will probably want to come along, too. And, you know, invite your brother. Heck, invite anyone you want and I'll pay for it... As long as I get to see you, Spencer, it doesn't matter to me._

_You are probably thinking I am nuts, aren't you? Maybe I am, you know. But I am just so in love with you and I don't want to wait anymore. I want to see you, right in front of me._

_So, think about it seriously. And write me back. Or call me. Just really think about it, okay?_

_I love you,  
Ashley_

/ / /

Spencer sits stock still on her bed, the sun dwindling down outside her window and her homework totally forgotten by her side. She cannot hear the clock ticking or the sounds of Glen's record player blaring down the hall.

She reads the letter again, just to make sure it isn't some kind of illusion and that the words are actually as they appear.  
And they are as they appear. Each and every one of them is the same as before.

_Oh my God._

Spencer doesn't normally think in such a way, with years of religious upbringing warning her of speaking out of turn towards God and Jesus and all the others in the bible. But it's like she cannot help herself in this moment, struck mute by what this letter is suggesting.  
And by how **good** it makes her feel.

_Better than good. Better than great even. Dear God, can it be...? Will I really be able to see her?_

Spencer is no fool, not even in this state of stunned amazement. Her parents will never go for this. While her father is more apt to at least listen to a plan such as this one, she knows her mother will never agree.  
Paula Carlin doesn't like The Beatles. She doesn't like any truly popular music, finding it disrespectful. The fact that she let Spencer have a phone was enough to make Spencer wonder at if her mother had somehow been replaced with another woman entirely.  
Some of the rules have been eased up on, true, but they are still there - firm and unbreakable, standing the test of time.  
And going to New York, to see some boys from England play rock music, with all of it being paid for by some girl from California, some girl that Paula Carlin doesn't even know of... some girl that Spencer is somewhat-secretly in love with...?

_That'll go over like a lead balloon._

Despite that knowledge, though, Spencer is excited. She is over the moon. She is on cloud nine. She is in love and won't let anything stand in her way.

"I'm going to make this happen, Ashley Davies. You and I are going to see The Beatles... and I am going to see **you**. No matter what it takes." Spencer says aloud, her voice a little shaky, but her resolve is stead-fast and true.  
She'll do whatever it takes to meet Ashley in New York.

'Even if it means defying your parents? Even if it means crossing every boundary?' a voice questions in Spencer's head and she closes her eyes, briefly, letting the doubts swirl around and try to gather steam.  
But those doubts never make it far, because Spencer has only one goal in mind and it is the girl whose photograph she cherishes and stares at almost every evening.

So, she gives the only answer she can, the only answer she wants to give.

_I'll do anything at all, because Ashley would do the same for me... and Ashley is worth every risk._

/ / /

**TBC**


	23. Ticket To Ride

June 24, 1965

_Dear Ashley,_

_I didn't want to wait to give you an answer, even though I am sure we will talk before you get this... _

_But I'll do whatever I have to, Ashley, to be able to see you. New York, California, the moon... I'd go anywhere at all if it meant getting to meet you, to __really __meet you._

_Goodness knows how I am going to make it happen, but... but I will. I promise you._

_I love you so much,  
Spencer_

/ / /

After she sealed the letter and laid it down upon the tiny table by the front door - where the paper sits, where the keys to the car and other knick-knacks rest - Spencer squared her shoulders and marched right back upstairs.

Because before she can talk to her parents and try to convince them that this plan is perfectly safe and sound, she'll need help.

_And that means I need Glen._

If Spencer can persuade her brother to come along, then it might grease the wheels a bit with their mother and father - she'd be looked after, under the care of her older sibling...

_Surely they will go for that?_

She is not ready to ponder what she will be forced to do if this method does not work. Opting to cross that bridge when (_or if... let's try to believe the best, Spencer_) she gets to it, she stands outside of Glen's room. She can hear the ever-constant spinning of a .45, the fun sound of Georgie Fame & the Blue Flames slipping to her ears and causing her to involuntarily grin despite her nervousness.

Her hand shakes as it raises upward, knocking on the shut door twice.  
And it flies open, Glen's face the picture of boredom.

"What do you want, Squirt?"  
"I've** told **you to stop calling me that, Glen..."

He starts to close the door once more, obviously in the mood to be a royal pain today.  
But Spencer isn't a little girl anymore. She won't go running to her parents, crying about Glen being a 'meanie'. She has bigger fish to fry on this day.

_I'm on a mission and I won't be pushed off course. Because this is too important._

She had tried to come up with the best way to address this topic, knowing that Glen would probably ask a ton of questions and she can't tell him the entire truth, but to lie out-right would only cause more problems. So, Spencer decided that to tell a little truth would go a long way.

"Glen, how would you like to see The Beatles?"  
"What? Are they on Ed Sullivan again?"  
"Uh, no, that's not what I mean... would you like to see them, you know, at a concert?"

Glen watches her quietly for a second or two, then his eyes go a little wide.

"Are they coming** here**? Like to Ohio?"

Spencer smiles a little timidly, attempting to act naturally and not at all like she has something so amazing hanging in the balance.

"No, not in Ohio... but they will be in New York."

Glen's face falls somewhat and he rolls his eyes like Spencer is the biggest dolt in the universe.

"Well, I guess the kids in New York will have a **great** time. Sheesh, Spence, way to get my hopes up..."  
She has to giggle a bit at her brother's reaction. It's not like he ever expressed that much interest in The Beatles, usually preferring to listen to the surfing music that she heard at Ricky's or the various records he hoarded away in his bedroom. But she supposes that Beatle-mania - which is what all the magazines call it, 'The British Invasion' hitting America like a storm - ends up affecting everyone eventually.

_Even a beautiful girl in California who claims to dislike the lads from Liverpool._

Spencer smiles to herself and gets back on track, remembering what she has to do and thus takes a deep breath - preparing to make this plan work out, come heck or high water.

"You know that pen-pal of mine, the one who got me interested in The Ventures?"  
"Who?"  
"My, uh, friend... in California."  
"Oh, yea. What about her?"  
"Well, she is going to the concert in New York and she's offered to get us tickets... if we want to go."

She waits for Glen to say something, but he remains silent and just stares. Spencer swallows, her throat feeling a tad dry, and she hastily continues.

"She'll get the tickets if we can just get there, get to New York. I know it sounds crazy, Glen... but we just need to get permission and then we can see them, we can see The Beatles."

_And I can see Ashley. Oh God, you've just __**got **__to make this happen! Please don't let me down..._

It is Glen's smile that let's her know that this just might work out. That Ashley selling her car and coming up with this idea isn't completely insane, that this strong need to see the girl from California might be realized and Spencer feels the first real stirrings of hope pound to life in her heart.

"Hell yes, Spence, of course we are going!"

Spencer shushes at him, more for the use of the word 'hell' than the loudness of his outburst, but she cannot contain her grin either.

"So, you'll help me?"  
"You bet! It'll be Mom to win over, though. She's a real stick in the mud."  
"Glen, don't say that..."  
"What? It's true. But don't worry, we'll figure it all out... Hey, do you think Lori could come along? I mean, would your friend mind?"

_I think Ashley would pay for my entire family if it meant getting to meet up with me._

But Spencer just shrugs, a small smile playing along her lips.

"I'll ask her and see."

He nods happily and, before he can shut the door again, Spencer impulsively launches herself at her brother. She wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes hard.

"Jeez, you're choking me, Squirt..." Glen huffs out.

And so she squeezes a bit harder at that age-old nickname that he just won't drop, but she is grinning the whole time. Glen can call her whatever he likes. Because he is going to help her out and he will be the way to turn this dream into a reality.

And Spencer can hardly wait to turn her head around, very soon, and see Ashley standing there - in reach and real, that girl with dark hair and lovely eyes and the voice that is the soundtrack to Spencer's world.

_It's going to happen, I really believe it... I really do..._

/ / /

Dinner is its usual affair - their father heads the table and asks both of his children how their day went, how confident they feel about grades and such as the school year nears its summer end. And their mother asks questions, too, though her inquiries tend to focus more on the time Glen spends with Lori and if Spencer has her eye on a young man yet.

The Carlin siblings both tend to roll their eyes at this moment of the evening meal - Glen more pointedly and Spencer more to herself - but it is a shared experience.

Spencer, though, cannot stop watching Glen tonight. She is waiting for when her brother decides to bring up the concert, her breath held fast in her lungs and refusing to move with ease.

_Everything that means anything is hinging on this, God. I know I've... maybe strayed a little bit... but love is never a bad thing, isn't that what your son teaches? And so, you see, you've just got to help me out with this... Because I am in love. God, I'm __**in love**__. And I may not be able to talk about it, not yet... but I can definitely show it to Ashley... if you'll let us meet, I can show her how much I love her..._

"So, uh, Mom... Dad... I was thinking of doing something fun during summer break, something different..."  
"Glen, we've told you that you can't go with Ricky to his uncle's place for a month. I don't like that man." Paula Carlin states, leaving further thoughts on that matter unspoken.  
When Ricky brought up this idea a couple of months ago and Glen tried to convince their parents to let him tag along, the ruling came down swiftly.  
Ricky's uncle left his wife several years ago, taking up with a 'colored lady and living in sin on some god-forsaken farm' (_my mother's words, certainly not mine_), and Paula Carlin did not approve in the slightest. And no son of hers was going to be exposed to such things.

"Nah, I don't want to go there. There's a concert I want to go to."  
"Who?"  
"The Beatles."  
"Glen..." Their mother starts, but Glen crosses his arms in a fairly bold move of defiance.  
"It's **just** music, Mom."  
"No, Glen, and that is final."  
"Dad?** C'mon**!"  
"Glen, don't raise your voice." Arthur Carlin warns.

Glen simmers angrily and the silence hangs heavily then.  
And Spencer feels that earlier hope drain from her body, leaving a cold sensation in its wake.  
And she imagines calling Ashley, telling the girl that she can't make it to New York, that all her determination was for naught, that they will be so close and still so far away from one another... and that thought alone is almost enough to shatter Spencer's heart.

But it is only 'almost', because what it does instead is strengthen her resolve.  
Because what she wrote in that missive to Ashley was true. The words she said aloud, in the safety of her room, were true as well.  
And that strength pushes the chill away, replacing it with a warmth that only love can conjure up and a faith that only affection can bring forth.

"I'd like to go, too."

Her brother and her parents look at her then. She knows what her mother's face will be like - shocked and dismayed all at the same time. And she knows Glen's expression will be frozen, wondering if there is any way at all that his little sister can salvage this mad plan of theirs.

"Spencer, you should know better than to listen to such things."  
"It's not bad music, it really isn't. It's fun."  
"'Fun'? Spencer, all bad things seem 'fun' to begin with-"  
"But it's not bad. And... And I'm not bad for liking it."  
"Spencer, you are forbidden to go to this concert and that is that." Paula puts her foot down and she fully expects to be obeyed. But Spencer has already come so far. She can't go backwards now.

_No. I won't give up. I __**can't**__!_

"Father, please..."  
"Spencer..." And, for the first time, that warning tone is directed at her.  
"But it's not** right**!"

And her voice breaks free, never before has it been so loud and so brash and they all appear startled by it. Spencer included.  
But the shell that has been around her, cradling her in Bible verses and always keeping her in line, started cracking the day she received her first letter from Ashley Davies - and the subtle splintering has come to fruition tonight.

Spencer Carlin is no longer the daughter that Paula can control. Nor is she the sister that Glen can call a 'squirt', not anymore.  
And her father's eyes seem to take her in, all at once, as if - perhaps - he has never seen her before. And, in a way, that is probably true.  
Because she is a new person as of today and now everyone can see it.

"You will **not** speak to your father or I in that manner, young lady. Go to your room this instant." Her mother says in a voice that will brook no arguments, face like thunder.

And so Spencer stomps away, more mad than she has ever been in her whole life.  
Mad at her parents for being so stubborn and so unwilling to bend. Mad at Glen for giving up so easily.  
But, more than that, Spencer is mad at herself.  
She lost her temper and effectively ruined any chance at all for going to see the girl of her dreams.  
And The Beatles as well.

_Now they'll never even entertain the idea! I didn't get around to mentioning Ashley or New York or anything... What am I going to do? How will I get to her?_

Spencer is not one for desperate acts, preferring to think things out and stick to the rules.  
But once she started talking to Ashley, Spencer started to question the rules of her world.  
Why couldn't she listen to surf music? What was wrong with Glen wanting to stay out late?  
Was it God's commandments that they were to adhere to... or just the regulations of their mother?  
It left her befuddled most times and curious the rest of the time.  
And then, of course, there was the matter of falling in love.

She never understood her friends, going all mushy over some guy and sneaking out at night to go park with a boy - mysterious comments and knowing looks that Spencer just was not a part of. To her, love looked like her parents marriage - safe and predictable. To her, things like desire and longing were devilish temptations - born of sin and of Satan.  
But then... oh, then, it happened and without a chance to catch a breath, Spencer knew what all her friends gossiped about and what they all wrote in hidden diaries.  
She knew why they would whisper and go to dark theaters, because she wished to do the same with Ashley.  
She wanted to hold the California girl's hand and kiss her lips and never let go.  
She wanted to be able to climb out her window, running across moonlit yards, and find Ashley waiting. Spencer **wants** all the time these days.

Now, the parameters have changed. With the scene she made downstairs, Spencer allows the old her to be shed and the new girl in their midst to stand up.  
On trembling legs, yes, but no less determined.  
With anxiousness a-plenty, but with unknown amounts of bravery as well - Spencer isn't going to ponder this or let this chance pass her by.

_If they won't say I can go, then I'll just have to give myself permission instead._

It scares her, this new girl in her clothes and in her bedroom, but there is a secret elation building as well underneath her skin.

_Ashley and I are going to meet._

And she lets that thought keep the absolute terror at bay.

/ / /

**TBC**


	24. And I Love Her

Kyla watches her sister bop around her bedroom, using her round hairbrush as a microphone as she sings along to Del Shannon's 'Runaway' - something very much popular - and, normally, she'd give her sister a hard time about such an act.

_She's always picking on me for liking the chart toppers and here she is, doing the same thing..._

But Kyla feels like there are two people inside of her own head - the sister she has always been, almost loving Ashley from afar and kind of looking up to the older sibling, envying the girl's ease with herself and with boys and with life in general.  
Now, though, there is this other voice in Kyla's head - the sister who isn't sure that all is right with the world and this confusion stems from that older sibling Kyla has adored for so long.

_Ashley likes... girls. As in likes-likes. The same way I like boys._

It still makes Kyla's insides swim a bit, like she is caught in a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings and she isn't sure how to handle it.  
She'd love to be able to talk to someone about it, to get their advice or comfort or... or...

_Something. __**Anything**__. I've never been good at keeping things quiet like this! ...Not that I've ever had a secret like __**this**__._

On the one hand, Ashley seems happy, more happy than Kyla can ever remember seeing her sister before. And that tells Kyla that this whole... girl-thing... can't be horrible, not completely.  
But she just isn't sure how **not** horrible it truly is.

_If it is so great, then why must it kept hidden? If it is so wonderful, why would everyone hate it so much?_

And there it goes again, the confusion that has become Kyla's constant companion.  
She can't even confide in Aiden, which would be nice to do since they are dating and she doesn't want to keep secrets from her boyfriend.

_That's right, I've got a boyfriend. And it was about time, too._

That thought never fails to bring the faintest of smiles to Kyla's lips, even now as she still silently watches Ashley act the total goof-ball - totally unaware of her audience of one by the door.  
She was about ready to move on from Aiden Dennison, not content to sit back and watch the boy pine over her sister.

_Which, considering all of this girl-business, he would have been pining for ages._

However, he came to his senses and whenever they go driving, his arm is around her shoulders - and Kyla has no doubt that he is there for her and her alone.  
It's a good feeling. It makes her feel like dancing around and singing at the top of her lungs.

_I guess... kind of like Ashley is right now..._

And, again, Kyla swings back and forth on the subject of her sister liking girls.

The .45 comes to an end, with just a hiss of static before the arm pulls back and another record drops down. Kyla waits to see what song blares out next.  
And when more Del Shannon pops up, she cannot help the devilish grin that grows upon her face.

"Really, Ash? What's next? Elvis, maybe?"

Kyla laughs out loud when Ashley jumps about a mile, hand going to her chest and face like thunder.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!"  
"That's just me getting you back for all the times **you** do that to** me**."  
"Then you better watch out, Ky, because I'll get you back."

But Kyla just waves her sister's threat off, coming fully into Ashley's room as Del sings about how he's 'gonna keep searchin', searchin', find a place to hide... searchin', searchin', she'll be by my side...'

"If we gotta keep on the run..." Kyla sings out, nudging Ashley's arm with her own and grinning. And her sister rolls her eyes, but doesn't appear that upset anymore and smiles just the tiniest bit.  
"We'll follow the sun-ah..." Ashley continues.  
And they both join in at the 'we-ooh' part, Ashley's smile getting wider and Kyla's grin as broad as ever. The two of them help Mr. Shannon finish out the tune, then Kyla plops down on Ashley's bed.

"You wanna come out with Aiden and I later tonight? We're going to the drive-in for a movie."  
"Nah, I don't want to bother you two on your **date**." And the way Ashley says it, with a smirk, implies a lot of things somehow and it causes Kyla's cheeks to flush.  
"**God**, Ash, we're just going to see some picture..."  
"Uh huh. Still, no thanks, I'm going to call Spencer tonight."

_Right. Spencer. The girl my sister... likes. __**A lot**__._

"Hey, Ash?"  
"Hmm?" Her sister mumbles, not really paying much attention as she flips through a stack of .45's and decides on which ones to place on the player.  
"Are you sure about all of this?"  
Ashley is still shuffling through the records, setting some to one side and keeping some on her lap.  
"This what?"  
"This whole... New York thing, the concert and, you know, everything..."

And then Ashley looks up, away from the records and whatever order she was putting them in, giving Kyla the kind of smile that lights up a room.

_Heck, that's the kind of smile that could light up our whole school!_

It beams out of her sister, bright and effortless, and it even seems to make Ashley's eyes shine a little more, almost makes her sister look like a little child - like when they first see Christmas presents under the tree and can't wait to open them.

"More sure than anything, Ky." Ashley replies, not a single worry in her response.  
"But how can you be **so** sure?"  
"That's easy. I'm in love with her, that's all I need to know."

Love. The word that Kyla has hesitated to say, even in her own mind, when it comes to her sister and this Spencer from Ohio.

_Because once it's called love, there's no going back, is there? I can't pretend that it's not going on or that it is just some kind of infatuation I don't understand... It's real.  
Ashley's in love with a girl. Not a boy. A __**girl**__._

Kyla sighs and Ashley's smile dims a little, until it fades all-together.

"You're never going to be okay with this, are you?" Ashley asks, that happy voice gone and replaced with a tone that sounds so much like defeat that Kyla wants to lie to her sister, wants to say that it'll all be okay and that no one will care - _especially me_ - and that loving another girl isn't the worst thing in the world.  
But a part of Kyla doesn't believe any of that and she does not know what to do or what to say, doesn't know how to lie or how to speak the truth.

"I'm trying, Ashley. I promise you I am."  
"Guess that's as good as it will get then."

Ashley puts a record on and Bob Dylan's voice rambles out, signaling the end to this painful conversation - the one where Kyla feels like she is letting her sister down, but cannot figure out how to set aside her own fears and concerns.

And, for some reason, Bob Dylan's voice - that annoys Kyla to no end, most times - seems to bother her more than usual.  
Not just the sound of it. Not just the fact that Ashley is using it to drive the girl out of the room. But the words seem to be attacking Kyla and she hates it.

_'How does it feel? To be on your own, with no direction home, a complete unknown... like a rolling stone...'_

/ / /

Ashley doesn't want to be sad.  
There is so much riding on this trip to New York, so much more than a concert or the fact that she sold her car to make it all happen.  
She wants to only think of Spencer and how they feel about one another - the way her heart skips a beat whenever she hears Spencer's voice or sees that blue envelope waiting at the end of the day, the daydreams she has had about holding Spencer close or kissing Spencer's lips...

Ashley does not want to think about what will happen **after** New York.  
How much it will hurt to leave Spencer behind, how much it will feel like her heart is being left in some stadium in some city.  
Or what she will be coming back to, with a mother who could care less about what her daughters get up to and a sister who...

_Can't love me, not as I am... who is always going to look at me this way, like there is something wrong with me..._

Ashley wants to put it all out of her mind.  
Because not even her own worries and insecurities are going to prevent her from seeing Spencer, from getting the chance to hold the girl's hand and see that smile in person.  
It's kind of like a door has been unlocked in Ashley, one that she has kept shut for so long - out of fear, out of desperation - and now she cannot close it.

_I don't __**want**__ to close it. I like this, I like being in love and not lying about it. It's nice. It's __**good**__. Why can't the world see that, too?_

Dylan's song washes over her and, unlike her usual reactions of how good it is or how true to life his words are, Ashley feels haunted by it.  
Like she might end up like who Dylan is singing about, in some way or another - nowhere to lay her head, always roaming, trying to fit her circle peg into a square hole.  
She closes her eyes and lowers her back onto the floor of her bedroom.

_All I want is Spencer. And I... I don't know if there is a God or not... but if there is, just so He knows, that's all I need in this world. Just Spencer. Make this happen and I'll figure out the rest...okay? Sounds like a top notch plan, right?_

Ashley opens her eyes once more, glancing at the clock, and rolls over onto her stomach.  
She reaches out for the telephone, tugging it to her by the long spiral cord.  
And she dials those numbers, even the sound of the rotary spinning making her feel lighter and happier - the sound of calling Spencer like a lark by her window, sweet and lovely.

_This is okay, how I feel, it's okay. And if Kyla can't see that, then that's her problem - not mine._

As she listens to the rings, she hopes that Spencer isn't out again.  
The last time they talked, which was all too brief for Ashley's liking, the girl told her about Paula Carlin's latest bout of parental rules.  
Apparently, Spencer caused a scene and got herself grounded for a few days - and that meant no late-night phonecalls (_which, of course, never stops me from calling_) and, as Spencer put it, 'we've been at church more this past week than Jesus himself'... which made Ashley laugh out loud and caused Spencer to emit a chuckle that sounded all at once amused and nervous.

_Because if there is one thing I know about Spencer Carlin, it's that she does not usually say a bad thing about church. Or Jesus. My, how things have changed..._

Ashley wonders if a similar door has been opened in Spencer as well, one that the girl in Ohio cannot shut... and, maybe, does not want to shut either.

"Hello?"  
"So, no communion tonight?"

Spencer's laugh is soft and wonderful and Ashley has to fight back a dreamy-sounding sigh.

"No, thank goodness... My mother has a bridge date, so I am allowed to spend the evening in my room."  
"Wish I was there to keep you company."  
"Me, too. I never realized how dull my bedroom could be, but now that I **have** to stay here... well, there's not much to do."  
"Talking to me isn't enough?" Ashley teases and she swears that she can almost see the grin Spencer most assuredly has on her face.  
"Talking to you makes all of this bearable, Ash..."

_Yea, like my own grin isn't just huge right now, too. God, what this girl does to me!_

"You know, Spence, you never did tell me what you did to get this grounding... C'mon, spill it. Did you swear at the supper table?"  
"No, I just... I just said some things that didn't go over quite well."  
"...Such as?"  
"We, uh, fought about music." Spencer answers quietly, voice so small all of a sudden and Ashley isn't sure how to take it. And she isn't sure if Spencer is telling her everything or not.  
"Wow, she **really** doesn't like Dick Dale, does she?" Ashley says lightly, trying to add some kind humor to this moment that seems rather tense now.

_She'd tell me if something was wrong. I know she would. Spencer doesn't hold her tongue, not with me..._

But that tiny edge of worry is there, questioning and curious, and Ashley feels unsettled for the second time today.

"Did you get my letter yet?" Spencer asks and Ashley blinks herself back to this shift in conversation.  
"No, not yet."  
"Just... just remember, Ash, when you read it... I mean **every word**, every single word. And I cannot wait to see you. It's kind of all I think about..."

And just like that, worry mingles with security - a funny mixture, to be sure, but Ashley leans towards that warm feeling, the one she gets every time Spencer speaks.  
And she trusts, for the first time in so long, Ashley trusts what someone is telling her and believes that things will actually work out in the end.

_Things will work out for me and Spencer. I just know they will._

"It's all I think about, too." Ashley whispers.

And the warmth grows, pushing out those darker concerns, because Ashley Davies is in love.  
Completely and utterly in love with Spencer Carlin.

_And nothing can beat that. Nothing. Not Kyla or Mrs. Carlin or anyone else._

They say their good-nights and they sigh out their 'I love yous'.  
And Ashley turns out the lights in her bedroom, lying down upon her bed, and looks at the picture of Spencer with just the moonlight as a witness - all so she'll dream about the girl from Ohio and nothing else.

And Ashley knows it'll work, because that's what she does every other night, too.

/ / /

August 1, 1965

_Spencer,_

_I got your letter yesterday and... well, I know you are not telling me all that happened with you and your parents, you know about getting grounded.  
But that is okay. If you ever want to talk, to tell me __anything__, just know that you can. I'm here for you. Always. No matter what, Spencer, I'll always be there for you._

_And now that the sappy-ness is over (ha ha), I am glad you mean every word, because getting to see you and be near you... It is my fondest wish. It's all I want._

_I'll even thank The Beatles for making it possible and that's saying something!_

_I love you more each day, just so you know._

_Ashley_

_P.S. - It won't be long now!_

/ / /

**TBC**


	25. Eight Days A Week

As is her ritual, Spencer reads Ashley's letter in a rush the first time - taking in the words she craves the most, words like 'I love you' and 'I'll always be there for you'... and Spencer's favorite this time around - 'It won't be long now!'  
And then she re-reads it, slowly this second time and she pays more attention to all the words, to each sentence - Spencer takes note of how Ashley just **knows** her so well, knows that she isn't saying everything where this current state of punishment is concerned...

_But she isn't cross with me, not in the slightest. I could not have fallen in love with a more wonderful girl. She's simply perfect._

And there she goes, drifting off from the more pressing matters at hand - like being grounded, like her mother's strict nature back in full force.

_Like the fact that I still haven't worked up the courage to tell Glen my plan for getting to New York..._

Spencer cannot concentrate on those things, not right now, not with Ashley's letter still clasped gently against her chest and only the nighttime to hear her heart pound so fitfully - so full of love, so full of longing.  
And happiness blankets her until dawn, until she must awake and face the day, until she must do what has to be done - and with no looking back.

_Be with me tomorrow, God... because everything is going to change. Absolutely everything._

/ / /

Ben E. King is crooning up and down the upstairs hallway, thanks to Glen's record player, and Spencer can't help but hum along to 'Spanish Harlem' - it's always been one of her favorites, a song that she heard at camp with those supposedly bad girls, with the doors shut and the windows locked.  
The three of them, all breaking rules in their various ways, subtly swaying to the sound of a Latin love affair.

_What would Patricia and Megan think to see me now? Sneaking out at night and plotting a trip to New York... without my parents permission! I bet they'd be floored._

Spencer is still nervous, that feeling is not gone at all.  
She is nervous and scared, terrified of the wrath of her mother and the disappointment of her father. She is anxious about God knowing her actions, of her blatant disobedience and disrespect.  
But, somewhere beyond all of that, Spencer knows that she'd feel even worse if she **didn't** do this. The idea that she can meet Ashley, can actually stand next to the girl from California and look into her eyes, that's enough to out-weigh all her fears.

_That's enough to make anything possible. That's enough to make all things possible._

So, with a deep breath, Spencer raps her knuckles on Glen's bedroom door - prepared for another secret conversation about those boys from England and how to get to see them.  
Glen gets a sly little grin on his face when he sees her.

"They've let you out into the rest of the house, eh, Squirt?"  
"Ha ha,** real **funny, Glen."  
"Never thought I'd see the day..." And Glen shakes his head, still grinning and enjoying this rare 'shoe on the other foot' moment. But Spencer doesn't have time for their usual banter, not with so much at stake.  
"Look, can we talk for a minute or two? In private?"  
Glen sort of snorts at her, a huff of laughter.  
"Why? I'm busy."  
"Busy doing what?"  
"**Things**."  
"Gleeeennn..."

Spencer is not above whining to get her way. It is one trait that she can employ that annoys her brother to no end and he tends to break quickly at the sound of it.  
And this time is no different.

"Sheesh, Spence, clam up will ya?"

And he jerks her into his room, shutting the door with a tap of his foot. Spencer stumbles just a bit and sends him a glare.

_I swear, if I didn't need his help, I'd wring his neck!_

"Okay, so, what's up?"

Glen sits down on his bed, the .45 already at an end and Spencer - without thinking it out much - reaches down and starts it up again.  
And there's Ben E. King again, singing about a red rose that he wants to take home.  
And, suddenly, Spencer thinks of Ashley Davies and she knows just how Ben E. King is feeling.  
She knows what it feels like to see something (_or someone... even just to hear them, even just to read their letters..._) and know that you are in love.  
It permeates her entire being, building and flourishing every day that goes by, and Spencer is left with not a single part of her untouched by these emotions.  
It is so strong of a feeling that it isn't until Glen snaps his fingers by her ear that she is back in present-time, in Glen's bedroom and with her world hanging in the balance.

"Sorry." Spencer says quietly and knows that her face is a tad red, a faint blush that she cannot conceal. But either Glen doesn't notice or chooses not to comment.  
Either way, she is grateful.  
"Are you alright?" Glen asks and there he is again, the brother she loves, the brother that punched Ricky and tries his best to not call her 'Squirt' because he knows she doesn't like it (_although he did call me that just a moment ago, but I can forgive him - for now).  
_"I fine, Glen, really... But I can't stand the fact that we have a chance to see The Beatles and our parents are not going to let it happen."  
Glen's face sort of sags unhappily.  
"You and me both, Spence."  
"Well, then... let's go anyway."

She watches as her brother's eyebrows shoot up in disbelief and his eyes go wide, like she had just suggested that they try to walk to the bottom of the ocean.  
It would be comical in any other circumstance, because it is rare that Spencer gets to shock her brother.

_But this is no laughing matter. I've __**got**__ to make him understand and agree with me. I've just got to._

"Wow, just one bit of trouble-making and you are ready to go whole hog!" And he laughs out loud, not taking her seriously at all. Which, Spencer guesses, is to be expected.  
Spencer Carlin is not known for such rebellious acts.  
She is known for her pressed skirts and her Bible close at hand, known for being that good girl - the one who doesn't talk back, doesn't lie to anyone - the kind of girl every mother wishes for and every father is pleased to have.

_A girl you don't have to worry over or keep an eye on. That's the girl I've been up 'til now. But I am not that girl anymore._

It is not only her feelings for Ashley that is awakening Spencer.  
It is everything - the music and the late nights and the realization that there is a whole universe past her front door-step... and it is all just waiting for her.  
And Spencer is ready to call it her own.

"I mean it, Glen, let's go. Let's just... take the car and go."

And Glen's laughter cools down to a mere chuckle or two, then finally quiets all together.

"Spencer, there's no way-"  
"Why? Because they said so?"  
"**Yes**. We'd be grounded for** life**, Spence, and that would probably just be for starters. I'd never get to use the car again, that's for sure."  
"So, that's it then? We just... just **sit here **and never get to do anything at all?"

Glen is silent for a second or two, just looking at her, almost as if he is studying her or trying to recognize her, trying to find the Spencer that used to be around.

"Spence... this isn't just 'anything', you know? This is** really **stepping out of line. Mom and Dad would kill me if I let you do this."

And Spencer feels this tightening in her chest, as if she were caught in an invisible vice, and the subsequent pain causes tears to form in her eyes. She grits her teeth, all at once angry and desperate, knowing that she cannot tell her brother the true reason that she has to make it to this concert but also not fully knowing how to get through to him either.

_It'll kill me if I cannot go, Glen... _

And she didn't mean to, but perhaps she did after-all, perhaps it was meant to be - because the words slip right past her lips and Spencer knows it is as close to the truth as she'll probably ever get.  
There might come a day where Spencer can tell her brother, can tell her father... _Maybe even my mother, one day_... There might come a day where Spencer can speak of her heart's desire freely, can tell every single person she meets about how in love she is and how wonderful Ashley is... For now, though, this is one bit of honesty that she can't contain and so it hangs in the air, heavy with things that Spencer is yet to say.

Glen looks to the floor and then back at her, repeatedly, and his gaze surely takes in the state of her face - fearful and raw, the few teardrops that have escaped and are running down her cheeks.  
He sighs almost in defeat and reaches back to scratch the back of his head, ruffling the slight curls of blonde there.

"You owe me until the day you die, Spence."

Spencer blinks once. Then twice. Then several more times.

"...What?" She asks in a whisper, not quite ready to believe that anything has changed. Not ready to drop her guard and be let down again.  
"Anything I ask, you are going to give me, understand? Last piece of cake or pie. Candy. Records... not that you have anything good to listen to... but I'll take them anyway. And you can't bug me. Or **whine** at me **ever again**."

Spencer stays frozen, the grip within her body not going slack so much as it just holds fast - breath held, muscles trapped.

"Are...Are you saying that you are going to help me get there, to N-New York?" Spencer stutters out and Glen rolls his eyes impatiently.  
"Jeez, you're slow, Squirt. Yes, we are going to see The Beatles. Might as well do something extra fun, because when we get back, our fun-days are **over**."

Unlike last time, with another secret talk about the same topic, Spencer isn't sure she is going to let go of her brother this time - her arms are wound around his neck so tightly that she is sure Glen is having a hard time breathing - but she doesn't care.  
In fact, not much else matters at all to her now.  
Not what her parents will do to them. Not the long hours of driving to come. Not even what will happen once the show is over and walking away from Ashley is as much a reality as the two of them meeting in the first place - nothing else matters except the fact that Glen is going to help her get to New York, to The Beatles.

_And, better than all of that, to Ashley. I am going to see Ashley! And it won't be in a dream, it will be for __**real**__._

/ / /

August 7, 1965

_Dear Ashley,_

_You don't know how much it means to me, that you are there for me. You make me feel like everything is possible and that nothing can go wrong.  
And you are right, I didn't tell you everything. I didn't want you to worry._

_But I promise you, Ash, I'm alright. I am more than alright.  
Glen and I talked tonight. And it is really __happening__! You and I are really __going to meet__!_

_I know we will have the chance to talk on the telephone, but... I just had to let you know and it's too late for me to call you._

_And I just had to tell you how much I love you.  
Because I really, __really __do._

_All my love, always,  
Spencer_

/ / /

And, as Spencer seals the envelope and sits it with the other mail to go out, she glances at the calendar that rests peacefully against the wall in the kitchen.  
She looks at the dates and feels this fluttering of over-whelming joy in her stomach, allows it to spread out into her arms and legs, into her fingers and toes.

Because, in just one week and a day, Spencer Carlin will finally get to breathe the exact same air as Ashley Davies.

/ / /

**TBC**


	26. Ask Me Why

She has the door shut, glad that Kyla is off with Aiden, and The Supremes are playing in the background - sweetly singing of a love that keeps on breaking one's heart - but Ashley is far away from those lyrics.  
Her heart, a place that she had long left untouched, now beats wildly in her chest at all hours. It thrums with affection and it pounds with want, actions that she never would have counted on just a year ago.

_But so much has changed, in just this short span of time... __**Everything**__ has changed._

It is the repeating of her name that drags her to the present once more, a smile descending slowly upon her lips.

"You know what, Spence?" Ashley asks softly, sort of cutting the girl from Ohio off.  
"What?"  
"I love you."

And there it is - the most tender sound ever, one of Spencer's warm sighs... the kind of thing that everyone wants to hear, at least once, coasting into their ears... and Ashley has to shake her own head, albeit happily, at this very distinct 'change' to her personality.

_Love has officially turned me into a real bore. I am as moony over Spencer as other girls are over... well, over The Beatles..._

"It's a good thing I love you, too, because you were not listening to me one bit."  
But Ashley can tell that the girl is not miffed, not in the slightest.  
"I'm sorry, I really am. It's just... I get caught up thinking about you, even when you are talking to me. So, it is kind of your fault."  
"**My** fault? Ash, you are something else..." And then Spencer chuckles, which sets the butterflies loose in Ashley's stomach. She actually has to swallow and shut her eyes, just for a second or two, to calm them down.  
Her voice, this time, isn't as self-assured when she speaks.  
Her voice, this time, carries the sound of one who is completely smitten.

"I am something else, Spencer Carlin... I'm yours."  
"Good. Because I am very much yours, Ashley Davies."

There is probably a good thirty seconds or more of silence after that, not the uncomfortable kind either - just a nice silence.

_She's probably doing the same thing as me, sitting there with a silly grin on her face, looking dopey._

"So, uh... let's get back to the plan."  
"Right. The plan... which is... what again?"  
"You really weren't paying attention, were you?" Spencer questions with a laugh. Ashley flops back onto her bed and lets her legs dangle off the end of the mattress.  
"Told you, it is your fault."  
"Fine, fine. But in all seriousness, Ash, we need to figure out a way to find each other. There is bound to be a crowd."

When Spencer called up, Ashley could barely understand a word the girl was saying - _it was all so fast and bubbling up like water on the boil _- and what she picked up on was somewhat vague.  
So, once the girl had run out of steam, Ashley asked for a re-telling.

/ / /

_"I got Glen to agree, Ash! I wrote you a letter... oh, I don't know, two days ago and I wanted to tell you right then, but I couldn't call you... it was too late in the evening for me to be making calls. I __**tried**__ to wait, but I couldn't. I just had to let you know. I can barely believe it, like it is a dream... But it's __**not **__a dream, it really isn't. I'm coming to New York, Ashley... I'm coming to see you!"_

_It took a minute for the information to sink in, but once it did, Ashley let out a loud whoop.  
She didn't care if Christine came upstairs to tell her to be quiet.  
She didn't care if it carried out her window and bothered any of their neighbors.  
She felt like shouting up and down the streets._

_"You mean it? You really do, Spence?" Ashley asked, out of breath with the sheer rush of enjoyment running through her body.  
"Yes! It'll be Glen and Lori and me. We are not telling anyone else about it."  
Ashley felt some of the happiness drain away at those words, curious as to just who would be kept in the dark over this trip to New York City.  
"Not telling anyone... like who, Spence?"  
"Oh. Well, um, my parents... mostly just them..."  
"Spencer, they don't know?"  
"Ashley... I asked them, Glen and I both did. They weren't going to let us go. They weren't even going to __**consider**__ it! I... I can't live by their rules anymore. I just can't."_

_Spencer's tone was a strange mixture of confidence and sorrow. And Ashley, for a moment, wanted to tell the girl to not do this - to not lie to her parents, to not cause a rift that may not mend so easily.  
Because Ashley loved her father, but he wasn't the best of parents. He was fun and games and parties... but he was rarely someone she could turn to, could run to. Sometimes it was like she was more of an adult than he was.  
And Christine... well, that relationship has been a sinking ship for years... and neither one of them seem to know how to fix it. Ashley isn't sure either of them want to fix it._

_But she would never wish that on Spencer.  
She knows the girl loves her mother and father, respects them, wants to please them.  
And she'd hate for their first meeting to be over-shadowed by what waits back in Ohio._

_"Ashley...? Are you still there?"  
"Yea, Spence... I just... Are you __**sure**__ about not telling them? You two could get into a lot of trouble."  
"I know, Ash. I know that nothing will be the same after all of this... but it's worth it. Getting to see you is worth whatever trouble I get into."  
And Spencer kind of laughs, a light sound that immediately brightens Ashley's dampened mood.  
"I don't even care about seeing The Beatles, Ashley... I just want to see you. That's all I want."_

_And with those words, Ashley allowed all her concern and all her worry to fade away. It set up residence somewhere else, somewhere past all the love and all the desire and all the eagerness.  
Not gone, not by a long-shot, but shoved aside... because Ashley understands where Spencer is coming from.  
Because Ashley selling the car, buying the plane tickets and getting the concert tickets once she and Kyla land... all of those things are worth it.  
Every step towards Spencer is worth any sacrifice._

_"That's all I want, too, Spence." Ashley whispers back, deciding that any repercussions to come are not as important the two of them - not by a long shot._

/ / /

They joke about both of them placing a red rose behind the ear, like all the women do in those novels you get at drug-stores, but that is just for fun.  
Spencer asks about meeting at the entrance, but Ashley mentions that there might be more than one and confusion could occur.  
And neither of them know the city, Spencer having never been there and Ashley only one time (_when I was seven years old_), so there isn't a landmark that they know well enough to choose to meet up at before-hand.

"What about a sign?" Spencer suggests.  
"Like on a piece of paper?"  
"But bigger, you know, something you could hold up and I could see it over everyone."  
"...Okay, that might work."  
"Good. That's settled then." Spencer replies, the pleased sound of her voice causing Ashley's heart to beat double-time.

And they try to talk of other things, but keep coming back to the fact that in just six days it won't just be a letter in the post or a phone-call at night anymore.  
They will be standing in front of each other, face to face, finally.

_No longer just a photograph by my bedside. She'll be right there. Right there for me to embrace and right there for me to... to..._

Ashley feels her body go hot, from her head to her toes, and she clears her throat - which is suddenly quite dry.  
For she is full of love, that much is wonderfully true, but there are other... **feelings** coursing through her these days as well. Urges she has denied to the point of them seeming unreal, they are now front and center - taking over her mind when she least expects it, filling her mind with thoughts that cause her to blush... even if no one else is around.

"Have I lost you again?" Spencer asks quietly, sounding as if she might be getting sleepy and that just endears the girl even more in Ashley's eyes.  
"Never. Just thinkin' about you, like always."  
"Oh, well, that's okay then..."

Another comfortable silence ensues and Ashley imagines them in the same room, in the same bed, looking at one another as the moon rises higher and higher in the sky.  
She imagines them falling asleep wrapped up in each other, the sensation of Spencer's skin against her own and waking up to the girl she so loves - that face being the first thing Ashley sees as the dawn breaks.

The thought that all of that may one day come true is better than any alcohol she has ever drank, better than any day at the beach, better than the greatest songs.

_Spencer is the best, always and forever. Nothing else can compete._

"I gotta go, Ash... it's getting late and my folks will get mad."  
"Okay. We'll talk in a couple of days."  
"Okay. I love you."  
"Love you, too, Spence."

They say good-night, one girl drifting off to slumber in Ohio and one girl still awake in California, dreaming with her eyes wide open.

/ / /

_Five days. Only five days. Five days until Spencer Carlin and I are together._

Ashley wakes up with this thought. And it bounces around her head most of the day, blocking out Christine's nagging or Kyla's still strained attitude towards the whole 'I like girls' situation.

Because most of this venture is worked out, but parts of it are still up in the air.

_Like where Kyla and I are going to stay after the concert. _

But Ashley, always the quick one, has an idea.  
It'll just require some smooth finagling.

_Or as it is commonly called - lying my pants off._

But any time she wonders if she is going too far, Ashley reminds herself of the lengths that Spencer is going to and her resolve becomes even stronger than before.  
So, while Christine is at the hair-salon (_and that will take hours, because it takes time to make Christine presentable_), Ashley digs out the address book from the coffee table.  
And she finds her Aunt Betty in that little black book.  
That's who they visited when Ashley was just seven, a girl in pig-tails who got her cheeks pinched painfully by some lady she can hardly remember, and that's who Ashley is going to stretch the truth to.

"What are you doing?" Kyla's voice rattles Ashley's concentration as she dials the number and she waves her sister off, not even looking up.  
"I'm busy. Go away."  
"God, you can be such a** brat**-"  
"I mean it, Ky, just... go somewhere else."  
"Not until you tell me what you are doing."

Ashley dials the last number and just stops short of holding her breath as it rings. She can feel Kyla watching her and chooses to ignore her sister, putting all her focus on this performance of a lifetime.

Because once she has Aunt Betty on board, then she can convince the Carlin siblings and Glen's girlfriend to not head back to Ohio right away.

_And that'll give me more time with Spencer, which is what I want._

"Hello?"  
"Uh, is this Betty?"  
"Yes it is. Who is this?"  
"Aunt Betty, it's Ashley, your niece!" Ashley says with false joviality and she catches out of the corner of her eye Kyla's reaction, which is caught somewhere between confusion and amusement.  
"Oh my goodness, is that really **you**? I've not talked to you in **ages**!"  
"I know, it really has been** too **long..."

Kyla nods her head in agreement, stifling laughter and Ashley swats at her sister, getting one solid smack to the girl's thigh.  
They glare at each other after that, Kyla's arms crossed across her chest as she silently seethes.  
And Ashley has to contain her own irritation as Aunt Betty prattles on and on about every single thing under the sun - from her bad back to how negligent Christine is in returning correspondence of any kind to how hot it's been when she sits out on her balcony at night.

"You know, Aunt Betty, Kyla and I are going to be in New York in just a couple of days." Ashley interrupts the run-on sentence that is Aunt Betty's form of conversation.  
"Really? Well, why didn't you say before? I can show you both around. Is your mother coming as well?"  
"Oh, no, she's... uh, too busy."  
"Well, that figures. Never making time for anyone, not even her own **sister**..."  
"And we'll have some friends meeting us once we are there, too."  
"That's nice, dear... Oh, we can go to the zoo! You were too afraid to go when you were here last."  
"...I was?"  
"Oh yes, you pitched **quite** the fit. Something about lions taking your ice cream cone. Or was it the bears?" Aunt Betty mumbles, pondering the faint memories and Ashley just sits there, blinking a bit.  
It causes Kyla to start chuckling again, the anger slipping away in the face of Ashley's - apparently - humorous expression.  
Ashley closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

_Stay focused, Ashley. Get her to let us stay there, __**all **__of us, and then get off the telephone._

"Aunt Betty?"  
"Oh, yes, dear?"  
"Can we stay with you while we are there?"  
"Of course. Where else would you stay?"  
"Oh. Well, I just wanted to make sure-"  
"We can go to the museums and I have good friends who have some** very **handsome sons, young men you should meet. They are all from good families."  
Ashley rolls her eyes and wonders if this was truly a good idea at all.  
"We won't have time for all of that, Aunt Betty. We are going to be in the city for a concert, just for a day or two."  
"Well, we'll just have to pack a lot in, won't we?"  
"...Sure. That sounds... wonderful." Ashley says with an inaudible groan and Kyla is now laughing so much that her face is turning red.  
Ashley vows, in that moment, to get her sister back ten-fold.

_And I know just how to as well..._

"Can our friends spend the night, too?"  
"That's fine, dear. Now, tell me all about school and your grades and such..."  
"Of course, Aunt Betty. Here's Kyla, she'll tell you **all** about it."

Ashley shoves the telephone into Kyla's hands, smirking at the shocked gaze her sister shoots her way and Ashley pauses, just for a second, to hear the beginnings of a long one-sided conversation.  
If looks could kill, Ashley would be six feet under.  
And that makes her smirk turn to a real smile, buoying her all the way back up to her room, her lips whistling a happy tune.

/ / /

**TBC**


	27. Twist And Shout

_"I'll be the girl with the sign with your name on it."  
"I'll be the girl running up to you."  
"...I won't be able to sleep at all, you know? It's like my stomach is full of bees."  
"Shouldn't that be butterflies?"  
"It's both, Spence... I'm __**that**__ excited."  
"Me, too, Ash... me, too... It's like I cannot sit still for long. I just pace around my room. I think I am bugging Glen to death, always making sure he hasn't let anything slip to my mother or father."_

_Ashley takes a deep breath. Spencer closes her eyes._

_"...Are you sure, Spence? I mean... if you are having second thoughts at all-"_

_Ashley's voice is timid. Spencer allows a soft smile to grace her lips._

_"I am more sure than anything in this world, Ash. By this time tomorrow, you and I will be together."_

/ / /

After a small discussion of what time to sneak out (_at the ghastly hour of five in the morning_) and what food to bring along (_some sandwiches and some bottles of pop... and candy, at Glen's request_), Spencer picks up a sheet of notebook paper and a pencil.  
She sharpens the lead to a fine point, writing the words in a calm hand - though she is anything but calm.  
But it is not fear of what will come after the concert.  
It is anticipation of the highest kind.  
And all her heart can seem to beat out is one name.

_Ashley, Ashley, Ashley..._

After she is done, Spencer folds the letter neatly.  
And she places it beside the lamp, the one she is going to leave on as the two Carlin siblings slip away into the early morning darkness.  
As they avoid the step that squeaks. As they open and shut the front door without a sound.  
As they run across the yard, to where Lori is waiting - a big grin on her face - and with one of Glen's hands holding Lori's and the other holding on to Spencer...

They leave home, heading towards New York and The Beatles.

/ / /

"Ky, can't you hurry up?"

But Kyla Davies is taking her time packing her suitcase, applying lipstick, calling up Aiden to whisper sweet nothings like they won't see each other for years instead of a couple of days.

"**Kyla**!"

The younger girl rolls her eyes and murmurs an annoyed good-bye to her beau.

"Really, Ash, you are so** rude**!" Kyla exclaims after putting the phone down.  
"I don't want to be late and you are taking forever."  
"We have..." Kyla glances at the clock on the wall.  
"...thirty minutes, Ash."  
"I don't care. Let's **go**."

They glare at one another, the standard method of so many of their interactions - from their days in diapers right up to this morning.  
And, perhaps, on any other day, Ashley would not mind so much. Sure, she'd pick on the girl, but she'd get over it quickly enough.

_But this is not any other day. This is the most important day of my life._

"Okay, I'm ready." Kyla says with a sigh.  
Ashley takes the steps two at a time, not bothering to listen as Kyla complains about having to carry the luggage. Or when the girl complains that she 'should have been able to at least tell Aiden why we are going to see The Beatles without him' as they sit in the back of the taxi-cab.

Ashley tunes her out completely.  
She thinks about tonight - about how she'll be standing there, with 'Spencer' written in big letters above her head, and just waiting... just eagerly and wonderfully waiting for the girl to arrive.

_To finally see her face. To see her smile. To hear her laugh so near. To actually reach out and hold her hand..._

A soft nudge to her shoulder shakes Ashley from her reverie.

"You, uh... you must be pretty nervous, I bet..." Kyla states quietly, keeping her gaze almost-shyly averted to the passing scenery.  
"A bit." Ashley hushes out, the twisting of her fingers in her lap belaying that answer with the truth.

_Bees and butterflies, __**tons**__ of them._

"It'll be okay... it will." Kyla says, voice still gentle, and Ashley finds a tremulous smile break out over her face. She takes her sister's hand and squeezes it.

"Yea... yea, it will."

/ / /

"Alright, Spence... you ready to take the wheel?"  
"**What**?"  
"C'mon, I'm beat and Lori's already driven some, so it's your turn."  
"Glen... I've only ever gone around the block of our street!"

Spencer nearly chokes on her half of a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich when her brother suggests she drive out here on the open road, miles of pavement stretched out before the three of them.  
It's been five hours, not even half of their journey, and Ohio is long behind them now.  
She knows their parents are up by now. She knows that her father, stepping out to get the paper, will notice the car being gone.  
And her mother, once she knows something is wrong, will go to each bedroom.  
And in Spencer's room, she'll find the letter and the lamp still on.  
If her mother looks even more closely, she'll find the remains of Spencer's piggy-bank - fine pink shards where her meager funds were once stored.

_Dear God, please don't let them be too angry... please help them to understand..._

But Spencer fears that is a futile wish to make.

"Well, then this is a great way to give it a go. Not much traffic on this stretch... so I bet you won't crash us into anything."  
"Glen...I...I don't know-" Spencer stutters out, her nerves getting the better of her. Glen interrupts her, though, a wicked little grin on his face.  
"Of course, you being a squirt and all, you might just run us off the road and hit those trees over there..."

She knows he is doing it on purpose, to rile her up, to get her steaming mad.

_I swear, I think he lives to do so!_

But it always works. And this time is no exception. Lori rolls her eyes at the two of them, chuckling as Spencer smacks Glen's head and the boy yells out.

"Pull over. I want to drive."  
"You sure?" Glen asks, smirking at her.  
"Pull **over**, Glen."

As they switch places, Spencer finds herself muttering about 'stupid brothers' and angrily stating under her breath the fact that 'I can drive** just fine**, thanks very much'.

She adjusts the seat and buckles the seat-belt. She pulls out onto the highway at a snail's pace, to the amusement of Glen.  
"I'd like to get there **someday**, Squirt..." Glen says with a laugh.  
Spencer silently seethes, but keeps her focus and slowly pushes down on the gas pedal, feeling the car accelerate.  
And she releases a breath. And she flicks her gaze to Lori, who is smiling over at her.

"Just ignore him. You're doing great, you know?" The girl says and Spencer smiles a tiny bit in return.  
"Thanks."

She is gripping the steering wheel something awful and she refuses to go above forty miles per hour, but she is driving.  
She is driving her parents car down a highway, running away from home for a day or two, rushing towards the girl of her dreams.

And the smile on her face grows as the morning breaks over the sky, the window down and the wind in her hair.  
For the first time ever, Spencer feels completely and totally free.

_And it is wonderful._

/ / /

Aunt Betty hugs them as if it were going out of style, crushing them individually and then together as the Davies sisters step out of the airport.

"You girls are simply **beautiful**! I cannot **wait **to show you off to all my friends!"

Ashley fights the impulse to grimace, knowing that keeping Aunt Betty content works in her favor. Kyla is better at faking the sincerity, though, smiling politely and nodding at Aunt Betty's chatter.  
One question, though, pushes through Ashley's willing silence.

"Oh, um... well, Ash might have told her... right, Ash?" Kyla asks, brown eyes wide as they implore Ashley to come up with a tall-tale - and quick.  
Aunt Betty looks over and Ashley smiles demurely.  
"Yes, we, uh, told her. She knows all about this."

But, of course, Ashley didn't tell anyone.  
Not Aiden. Not any of the random friends from King High.  
And she didn't tell Christine.

Ashley didn't want to taint this journey with mentioning it to Christine, to the woman who was - technically - her mother... _but had rarely actually been a mother at all_.  
She knew the woman would either not care at all, waving the two of them away without a glance, or Christine would have found a way to rain on their parade.

_Neither of which I wanted to deal with._

Aunt Betty seems to believe her, though, and bustles them to her car.  
She peppers them with questions about school and boys and hobbies and a million other things.  
Ashley, once again, is left to be the one to cut into the conversation and bring up the reason she is even here at all.

"Aunt Betty, can you take me to Shea Stadium? I need to get the tickets for this show we are going to tonight."  
"Of course, dear. We'll do that right now. And then, afterwards, we shall have lunch with the Colbys. Such good people. And Kyla, they have a son about your age, I think..."

Kyla still smiles, but it looks pained.  
Ashley bites her bottom lip, hard, in order to not laugh out loud.

But once they near the stadium and Ashley steps out of the car, seeing girls all excited and hugging onto one another, boys grinning and holding their tickets aloft in joy - Ashley feels the humor set sail from her body.  
And she is anxious. And she is terribly happy. And she is a babbling mess once she reaches the ticket booth.

"I, uh, need...um, I need five tickets, please... Five tickets for The Beatles concert... please?"  
The elderly man laughs at bit at her and asks for payment, which she shakily hands over.  
And then the five tickets are right there, right in front of her.  
"You gotta take'em first, little lady. Otherwise you can't get in..." And he chuckles even more, prompting Ashley to smile weakly and mumble a 'thank-you very much, sir'.

Kyla is standing outside of Aunt Betty's car, practically jumping in place.

"Did you get them? Are we going?" Her sister asks quickly.  
And it finally sinks in - it is all happening, really and truly happening.

_She'll be here soon. Spencer will be __**here**__, with me._

Ashley finally lets loose a real smile, big and broad, and she and Kyla scream out - they barrel into one another in happiness, one girl pleased as punch about seeing the lads from Liverpool. And the other girl...

_...I've got something even more special to look forward to._

/ / /

After another seven or so hours of driving, numerous stops at gas stations and even a diner or two as the sandwiches packed wore off, and Glen shouts out as the signs on the highway start indicating New York ahead.

Ricky Nelson comes to life on the radio and all three of them seem to tap their feet, the excitement each one feels too much to contain, and then Glen starts to sing along.

"Well, I tried everything to get along with you... Now I'm gonna tell you what I'm gonna do... I'm gonna leeeeeeeave..."

Lori giggles at Glen's antics and Spencer rolls down her back-seat window, sticking her head out into the air. She looks as the highway speeds by, looks at the sky as it goes from a shining blue and slowly shifts to a duskier shade.  
And there, in the distance, she can see the lights of the city.  
Like stars that have fallen to Earth, New York is lit up like Christmas.  
Spencer pops her head back in and grins widely.

"I almost can't believe it... We are really here."  
"I know! We are going to see The Beatles!" Lori exclaims, turning around to grab Spencer's hands and shake them in a goofy manner.  
Spencer nods her head rapidly, but in her mind she knows what her true joy is about - and it isn't The Beatles at all.  
Because her heart is still beating out the same syllables and hasn't stopped doing so for so long now, it is the only rhythm that Spencer knows.

_It is the only one I __**want **__to know. Ashley... Ashley... Ashley..._

"So, how do we find your friend?" Glen asks, his fingers still tapping along with the song.  
"She is going to have my name on a sign... You know, just a large piece of paper or a board of some kind... Don't worry, we won't be able to miss it." Spencer replies, her own feet still moving restlessly, no longer from the music but from pure jumpy-ness.

After all this time, they are so close to one another now. It is no longer letters written or phone-calls made. They are in the same state, the same city... they'll be in the same **space**, right in front of one another... and Spencer is almost sick with tension.  
Good tension, mind you, but tension nonetheless.  
The buildings rise up so high and all three of them crane their necks to look up at them. And horns are honking in the congestion of traffic, taxi-cabs and trucks and every kind of car you can imagine. Buses push past them as they take exits and cruise down streets, Lori in charge of the map and pointing which way to go.

And at exactly 5:45 p.m., they arrive to Shea Stadium, where there are already kids hanging around - crowds of girls and boys their age, some even older than that, mingling and talking and laughing... hands being held and gleeful yelps, loads of people buzzing about in elation.  
They step out of the car, luckily finding somewhere to park, and Glen stretches his arms above his head.

"Looks like we are early still." He says, eyes looking around in wonder - a wonder that they all seem to be feeling. Not just Spencer. Not just Lori. But every single person here has the face of someone about to experience something amazing.  
"Should we walk around some?" Lori asks, leaning against Glen's shoulder and the boy puts his arm around her waist.  
"I don't know... what do you think, Spence?"

But she barely hears him, her gaze shooting around in a hundred different directions, wondering if Ashley is already here, if the Ashley is already waiting.  
There isn't a sign over all these heads, though. And Spencer has to curtail the urge to sigh unhappily, knowing that a little while longer to wait is not a big deal.

_We've already waited for so long. I can make it another hour or so, I suppose._

"As long as we don't go far. I don't want to miss seeing her, okay?"

Glen and Lori smile at her, beckoning her to follow along. Glen even reaches his hand back to her and Spencer takes it gratefully.  
And the cut through the crowd, each of them looking at something or pointing out something, sometimes even stopping to talk to fellow Beatles fans.  
And Spencer meets the smiles, meets the grins, meets the bubbling-over of anticipation with sentiments much the same coursing through her veins.

All the while, though, she keeps searching for her name to suddenly appear in the atmosphere... searching for the sign that shows her that Ashley is finally here.

/ / /

Ashley thought she would have to literally drag Aunt Betty to the front door, the dinner going on and on, the conversation going on and on... All the while, Ashley sat still and silent throughout the whole meal, not able to chat about whatever social function Aunt Betty was planning.

Kyla kept shooting her looks, questioning looks, but Ashley disregarded them.  
She had a routine going on and was loathe to break it - she would take a sip of the milk that Aunt Betty insisted on, then look at the clock, then sigh quietly, then glance at the sign leaning against the wall - Spencer painted on it in bold black letters.  
And then Ashley would softly smile to herself... and start the routine all over again.

Finally, at exactly seven p.m., Ashley couldn't take it anymore.

"Aunt Betty, Kyla and I really need to go now, for the concert." Ashley all but blurts out and, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Kyla's face relax in relief.  
"Oh, well, then I shall take you."  
"We can take a cab, it's not trouble-"  
"And spend extra money? Oh no, no need for that. Grab your placard, Ashley."

And with that, Aunt Betty was up and grabbing her coat. Kyla and Ashley hurried to keep up, grabbing coats and purses.  
Ashley gets the sign and holds it tightly to her chest, Kyla gripping the tickets equally hard in her hands.  
Soon, they are driving along, Aunt Betty talking the whole way.  
But neither girl is hearing her this time, not even pretending to listen.  
The sun is almost down in the sky and Ashley nervously wonders if Spencer will even be able to see her sign. The thought causes her to enter into a slight panic.

"It's getting dark." Ashley whispers.  
"That usually happens at night, Ash."  
"But what if she can't see the sign?"  
"I'm sure she will."  
"But what if she **can't**, Ky? What will I do if she can't see it at all and thinks I didn't show up or something? What if-"  
Kyla's hand is covering her mouth, causing the glint in Ashley's gaze to go from worried to irritated.

"Ash, she'll **see it**, okay? I mean... you two... well, this is why you are here and why she is here... She'll be looking for you and she won't miss the sign. You can bet on it."

And Kyla smiles just a bit, as if she might actually be pleased for her sister.  
And maybe, deep down, she is - even if she never fully understands this love... Maybe all Kyla really wants is for Ashley to be happy.  
Ashley ducks her head, a little embarrassed at her own rambling, but Kyla pulls her close and hugs her, rubbing her hand up and down Ashley's back.

"Thanks, Ky."  
"You are welcome, Ash."

They pull away, grinning, and Aunt Betty pipes up from the driver's seat.

"Alright, girls, here we are. Now, at what time should I return to collect you all?"  
Ashley and Kyla exchange looks, neither of them knowing just how long The Beatles will play.  
"Um, an hour... and thirty minutes... maybe?" Kyla suggests and Ashley shrugs her shoulders.  
"How about two hours, Aunt Betty? Will that be okay?" Ashley jumps in, her hand on the door handle and her eyes looking at the massive crowd of people starting to move around them - faces upon faces getting closer to the stadium and, if she looks closely, starting to go in.

"Two hours is fine. See you then girls!"  
And the two of them barely get out a 'thank you' and a 'bye' before they are bolting from the vehicle - Kyla clutching the tickets and grinning almost madly.  
And Ashley takes a deep breath, stepping into the crush of fans and voices, and she raises the sign up above her head - arms trembling just a tad - and she prays to God for Spencer to see her.

"We should walk around some, too, so she won't miss us!" Kyla shouts over the den of noise and Ashley nods in agreement, unable to talk at all.  
Her spine is rigid and her palms are sweating, her whole body is in a state of revolt - wanting to collapse from the sheer amount of adrenaline pumping through it.

_C'mon Spencer... I'm __**right here**__... Please see me, please see me..._

/ / /

Glen tries to make her stop, but it is of no use. She is jittery.  
And terrified that maybe Ashley is here somewhere and they are just missing each other.  
Spencer will look to the left, then fear that as she looked to the left that Ashley was to her right and Spencer will then quickly spin her head around to the other direction... only to repeat the actions, but back to the left again.

It is making her dizzy and her eyes are getting a little bleary with staring so hard and not blinking.  
They have been here for over an hour now, the mass of people getting larger and larger, bodies starting to move to the entrance and to fill up the seats.  
And they wait, Lori glancing behind them and Glen looking towards where most of the people are and Spencer... well, she is trying her darnedest to look** everywhere**.

"Should we get closer to the entrance? I mean, maybe that's where they are and we just can't see the sign from here?" Glen asks and Spencer nervously bites her lips, pondering his suggestion.

But then... then the air totally leaves Spencer's lungs and she struggles to stay upright, struggles to do anything other than freeze in place.

"Spence?" Glen questions, grabbing her shoulder and giving it a shake.

And she blinks slowly, hoping it is not just her mind playing tricks on her, but when her vision clears... it is still there, standing out against the encroaching night.  
Her name in block letters, black on white, seemingly suspended in the air.

Without another thought or another word, Spencer takes off, not even registering Glen's shout or Lori calling her name.  
She slips by people and gets bumped into and she must weave between girls and boys, men and women, adults and children - all the while, Spencer keeps her eyes upward and on her own name... getting closer and closer.  
And there is this peculiar sensation inside of her, under the skin and close to her chest - a sort of heat, a jolt of warmth that spreads all over - and she is grinning wildly, not minding the feet that step on her own or the disgruntled looks she gets by being so rough in the crowd.

By the time she gets there, the sign is turned the opposite direction and all she can see is the back of the girl holding it. Spencer catches her breath, the force of it a little painful in her lungs, but she pays it no mind.

Just as she is about to speak, another girl comes running up to the one holding the sign and is pointing towards where every other person is heading.

"**No**, Ky, I think this is the best place... I can kind of see all around from here, so Spencer can probably see the **sign** from here."

_I know that voice! Oh my goodness, it's really her... it's Ashley, she's here and I'm here... Dear God, it's her! _

Spencer is transfixed for a moment, caught between the realization that all her dreams are coming true and how she hopes that this is truly happening, that it is not some fanciful daydream that she will wake up from and be back in Ohio.

_Say her name. Say her name. Just... say her name..._

"...Ashley?" Spencer gets out, but the crowd is too loud and it is lost. Well, almost lost... but the other girl seems to hear it and glances around curiously until she locks eyes with Spencer.  
The girl's head tilts to the side, as if figuring something out, but then it sort of lights up and she is tugging at the girl with the sign.

"**God**, Ky, what **now**?" That voice that Spencer loves asks and Spencer is still grinning, that heat filling up every corner of her body, every part of her soul.  
And she cannot stand it anymore, forgetting about propriety and whomever might be watching, forgetting about her brother and Lori - who are surely near now and can witness this moment that is about to occur.

She surges forward, her hands finding shoulders, and she forcefully turns the girl around.  
She listens as angry words die on those lips she has longed for and takes a brief second to look into the brown eyes she has ached to see, wide and shocked as they are right this minute.

And Spencer wraps her arms around Ashley Davies, the feeling of the love of her life next to her - the scent of her, the sensation of her, the sound of the sign dropping to the ground and the hitch of breath Spencer hears in her ear...

...and then arms coming around Spencer as well, holding on for dear life, firm and sure and deliciously solid.

"It's you, it's really you..." Ashley keeps repeating, a delicate confirmation, just for Spencer to hear, just for the two of them.  
And Spencer pulls back just enough for them to really look at one another, smiles that could light up the galaxy on both their faces.

"And it's really you, Ash... it is really and truly you..." Spencer states, not at all surprised to find several tears winding their way down her face.  
Ashley's hand, softer than Spencer could have ever imagined, brushes each one away.  
"You're here." Ashley says.  
"Yes."  
"I mean... you are** really here**. I'm really holding you... This isn't a dream, right?"

Spencer reaches up, slowly, and lets her hand rest upon Ashley's cheek - and the contact nearly does her in, nearly makes her crash to her knees.  
The girl subtly turns into the touch, her eyes fixed on Spencer's without a single moments break, a tender gaze that neither of them want to leave.

"Not this time. This time... Oh goodness, this time, Ashley... it's **real**..."

And they are hugging again, even as Glen reaches them and Lori asks questions and Ashley's sister looks on.  
Even as the crowd moves towards the stadium, the time nearing for The Beatles to play and sing and wow everyone.

They don't see any of that.

They only see each other, the real reason for a trip to New York and a concert and selling a car and sneaking away from home, for disobeying parents and breaking rules, for late nights and postage stamps, for conversations about music and family and everything in-between...

All of it just leading up to this moment, the two of them, together at last.

And not even The Beatles can top that.

/ / /

**TBC**


	28. an author's note

**Dear Readers of this fanfiction:**

So, there are a few things I feel like saying and only one those things is actually important at all. But here's hoping you don't mind the babble and that you are not just sitting there, cursing the fact that you got a notification for this story and thought it might be a new chapter... and, instead, it is this... Me, babbling.

- I completely disregarded any other places that Spencer and Ashley could have met up, even the fact that there was a Beatles concert during that '65 tour in Chicago... which would have been a lot closer for the Carlin siblings (and Lori). But the Shea Stadium show was the shit,in the midst of full-blown Beatlemania in America and this is the show that proved just how much pull a band could have with the youth market as far as money goes, and so that is where I imagined them meeting. I wanted them to be a part of history.

- For anyone who might have wondered how much a ticket to The Beatles NYC concert in '65 would have cost you, prepare yourself for a real blast from the past...lol. Highest price was a stunning $5.65. As in five dollars and sixty-five cents. You sure as hell cannot see a big-name group of Beatles stature for a price like that anymore.

- Not sure when I will have the time to write the next chapter, since I am a tad overwhelmed with school and work and radio shows and my emotions... But never fear, it shall not be too long of a wait. I can say, though, that the next chapter shall be the last.  
Or that is at least the intention. I've had the ending in mind before I ever started writing this story and now I am, basically, 'there'. Just have to put my fingers to the keys.

- Now, here's the only part that matters, okay? Thank you. Thanks for reading and thanks for continuing to read and thanks for comments (both short and more in-depth) and thanks for the story alerts and the story favorites. Thanks for finding this interesting and for getting invested and for giving this thing a shot in the first place.  
I can't believe it has almost been a year since I started writing on this and that there are people who have been reading it from the get-go. What a trip.  
So, yes, thank you from the bottom of my damned Spashley-lovin' heart.

3

**spheeris1**


	29. You've Got To Hide Your Love Away

The ground could have cracked open and people could have started falling in the depths of the Earth, but Spencer wouldn't have noticed.  
Spencer doubts if she would care at all.

Even her brother's voice, which is technically close by, seems muffled and as if it were drifting to her ears from a million miles away.  
But when Ashley blinks, a slow closing of the eye-lids that takes away the most wonderful sight to Spencer's transfixed gaze - takes away, just for a second, that shade of inviting brown - Spencer blinks as well.

And she comes back to reality.  
And she hears the crowd around them, feet moving and loud talking and girls screaming in barely contained anticipation.  
And Spencer remembers that it isn't just she and Ashley here at all.

_I thought it was, I really did... It was like being in some kind of daze... I could just look at her for forever and ever..._

The dopey grin is on her face and she knows it. Spencer cannot hide it for anything, though she tries to calm it down - at least a bit.  
And Glen's voice finally reaches her. And she pulls away, reluctantly, from the embrace that she and Ashley were caught up in and turns to her brother.

"Glen, this... this is Ashley. Ashley Davies." Spencer says with a smile, the most proud and joyous smile that has probably ever graced her lips.  
And if Glen thinks it is too much, too intense, too strong of an emotion for his little sister to display for another girl, it doesn't show upon his face.  
He is shaking Ashley's hand like it is going out of style and Lori is chastising him, saying with a good-natured roll of her eyes that 'you'll break her arm if you keep that up, Glen'.

"Wow, I mean, just **thank you **so much! You don't know how great this is, I mean, it's **The Beatles**! I mean, this is-"  
"Glen..." Spencer tries to intervene, but her brother is rambling in general now and Spencer gets distracted by the expression on Ashley's face - the amused grin on those perfectly-shaped lips, the rose to her cheeks, the delicate lift of one eyebrow and the way those eyes practically shine... and then those eyes shift, attempting to be sly but not really subtle at all, right into Spencer's stare and the two of them are completely locked onto one another again.

Spencer feels her heart race, feels it beating so hard, and heat is rushing up her neck.

_I swear, she makes me feel faint..._

"Hey, uh, I think we better get in there..." Another voice speaks up and Spencer is left, once again, to come back to present-time.  
She swallows, air thick in her throat, and turns around to see the other girl in this group.  
Spencer reaches out, taking this girl's hand in her own.

"You must be Kyla. I'm **so** glad to meet you."  
"Oh, um, yea that's me... and you must be Spencer. Nice to meet you."

They seem to grin at each other nervously and Spencer wants to make a good impression, but all she can think of is Ashley.  
Ashley, so close and right there and Spencer must fight the urge to keep looking at the girl from California, even while she talks to others.  
Spencer knows that would be terribly rude.

_And dangerous. I can't let on too much. Glen will see right through me... Or Lori will... I can't let them know, not yet._

But Spencer knows that it'll be hard to hide these feelings now, hard to not stare at Ashley in wonder, hard to not just fall all over herself to be with Ashley in every way possible tonight.

_God, I'll need your help. I __**really**__ will._

/ / /

Introductions are properly made.  
There is peppy chatter and the five of them pushing their way to the entrance.  
There is the deafening sounds of the crowd - a sea of eager faces against the night sky.  
And Kyla is hopping on her feet, as excited as a little girl on Christmas.  
And Spencer's brother, Glen, has a thousand-watt smile on his face and is holding his girlfriend's hand.  
Glen's girlfriend, Lori, is laughing at something the boy has said and they are already yelling out.  
Everyone is yelling and screaming and some girls are crying, clutching their chests as if their hearts will explode.

But, the funny thing is, Ashley knows how those girls feel.  
Just, for her, it has nothing to do with four guys from Liverpool.

_It has everything to do with the girl beside me. It has everything to do with Spencer Carlin._

She can feel Spencer watching her, sometimes just a shy glance and other times...

_Oh, other times, I can feel her blue eyes on me and I think I might... I think I might topple right over and fall into a heap upon the ground!_

Ashley's never felt like this before.  
Like she is flying and like she is dizzy and like she could run for days but not get tired.  
But she knows what this is - Ashley knows it is love, wonderful and real love.

"You can't possibly know how **happy** I am right now." A warm whisper slides over Ashley's ear and, suddenly, all the noise that surrounds them is gone.  
It is just Spencer's voice, not over a phone-line, but right here and right now.  
And Ashley slowly turns, as if she might wake up and find this all to be a cruel dream.  
But no, not this time.

_This time, it is __**real**__._

And Ashley leans over, gently placing her hand within Spencer's and relishing the sensation of the girl holding on tightly, and whispers back to this girl who owns her - heart and soul.

"I know, Spence, I do... because I feel the same exact way."

And their eyes meet and the world, once more, just disappears.  
Even as a collective roar goes up and The Beatles rush out onto the field and up onto the stage. Even as, without any of them truly knowing it, history is being made on this night - August the 15th, 1965 - at a stadium in New York.

Ashley and Spencer are making their own moment, hands clasped together, two worlds beautifully colliding while the rest of the universe spins on.

/ / /

_Spencer catches it, even if Ashley denies it later, and she bumps the girl's shoulder lightly.  
Ashley smiles over at her and Spencer takes a deep breath to halt the need to swoon at the vision before her. It's difficult not to, it really is, because Ashley is simply beautiful._

_"I think you are singing along."  
"I am __**not**__!"  
"Yes you are, I __**saw**__ it!"  
"You must be seeing things then, Miss Carlin. I don't like The Beatles."  
"Uh huh... suuuure, Ash..."_

_And she watches Ashley chuckle, the flutter of eyelashes, and she feels the most tender sweep of Ashley's thumb over the skin of her hand._

_"Okay... well, maybe I __**was**__ singing along... But I guess I have to like the lads a little bit, right?" Ashley says and Spencer takes a chance of her own, returning the favor of a caring touch with one of her own, loving the smooth-ness she finds there._

_"And why is that, Miss Davies?" Spencer asks and finds Ashley looking at their intertwined fingers, a soft smile on her face._

_"They brought me you."_

Spencer keeps replaying that in her head, over and over and over, unintentionally blocking out the conversation going on between Ashley's sister, Kyla, and her brother.  
The two of them going on about each song and Spencer almost wants to laugh out loud, because she knew Glen liked The Beatles - but she didn't know he liked them** this **much.  
Every once in a while Lori says something as well and the three of them are off like a shot, talking over each other and Glen sings a bit and Kyla joins in and then Lori does the same.

But Spencer is still holding Ashley's hand.  
And the world is not ending.  
And Glen doesn't seem to notice, nor does Lori.  
Kyla is the only one that knows what is going on and, though her glance back at them is a worried one, Kyla just looks away quickly and says nothing about it.

Kyla's reaction does put Spencer on edge, in a sense, but it is not enough to deter from the contentment she feels. It doesn't make a dent in that euphoria. It doesn't make her let go of Ashley's hand, either.

"So, I asked my Aunt if you could stay over and she said yes." Ashley says with a sheepish grin, gaze going from the ground to Spencer's face, back and forth.

_She is so cute. She really is. How did I get this lucky? God... I am __**so lucky**__._

"Okay. I'd like that. I want as much time as possible with you, Ashley."

The girl's smile is beaming and Spencer's body seems to have a mind of its own, because it starts to tilt forward and all she can seem to hear within her mind is one steady command.

_Kiss her. __**Please**__... just kiss her..._

For better or worse, though, Glen's voice throws a bucket of cold water on that impending action. And Spencer can see Ashley visibly shudder and step back, hands still held, but now a tiny bit of distance between them.  
And Spencer knows it is for the best, she truly does.

_What I was about to do, out here and in front of all these people, too! In front of __**Glen**__! I can't seem to control myself..._

"Hey Squirt, we better get started back..." Glen starts and Spencer notes with a bit of amusement at how fast Ashley jumps in to stop that sentence from going any further.  
"Oh, no, you can come and stay with us. It's okay with my Aunt and everything. And I insist, you came all this way. You can't drive back this late-"  
Spencer sees Kyla sort of grinning at her sister's speedy delivery, then Kyla catches Spencer's look and rolls her eyes playfully. So Spencer tugs at Ashley's hand in her own, interrupting the girl and getting a wide-eyed look in response.  
"We'll** stay**, Ashley. Right, Glen?"  
The boy just shrugs and agrees with a pleased 'sure'.  
Ashley releases a sigh as the others go back to talking about the concert, animated and having a good time. And the two of them are silent with one another, enjoying the others company even if it is not filled with talking.  
And there is this fine line of tension as well, of what could have been - outside of a stadium in New York, with girls and boys all around, with fear so far from Spencer's mind - and it hangs between them... Not heavily, but it is there.

_A kiss that might have been..._

But Ashley's voice cuts past those thoughts and Spencer looks over at the girl, overwhelmingly glad to be here - kiss or no kiss - just glad to be here with Ashley Davies.

"Hey Spence?"  
"Hmm?"  
"Did he called you 'Squirt'?"

Spencer groans, slightly mortified, and is met with Ashley's delighted laughter.  
Which almost makes up for the fact that Glen blurted out that despised nick-name.

_Almost._

/ / /

She shouldn't be feeling like this. It's like that saying, the one about having your cake and eating it, too.

_Which doesn't make much sense to me. If you have cake, shouldn't you be eating it as well?_

But all that Ashley can think about is how she wishes everyone would go away.  
Aunt Betty and her never-ending questions. Kyla and her non-stop recounting of the concert.  
And while she does not really know Glen or Lori, she wants the two of them to go away, too.

She just wants time alone with Spencer.  
Where they don't have to sneak looks and make sure Aunt Betty did see it. Where hands don't have to be dropped in car rides and kept in their own laps.  
Where they could kiss, if they wanted to.

_And I know I want to... and I am pretty darn sure Spencer wants to kiss me._

Ashley was so wrapped up in that moment, the one where Spencer got closer and closer and she was lost in an ocean of blue and if Glen had not spoken...

_We would have kissed. And I just __**know**__ it would have been wonderful._

She can feel her own body sag unhappily as Aunt Betty starts in on another tale of her long-ago youth, dishing out another piece of pie for Glen and Lori covering up a yawn and Kyla's foot tapping impatiently on the floor.  
And then there is Spencer, sitting beside her, their thighs touching past layers of cloth.  
And Ashley cannot stand it - she wants to reach out so badly and pull the girl to her and never let her go.

"Hey Ash, I'm going to change for the night. Will you help me?" Kyla's voice startles her and she frowns at her sister.  
"Ky, you don't need-"  
But Kyla hops up, snatching both of Ashley's hands, and drags her away.

Once they reach the guest bedroom, Ashley pulls away from Kyla and is perfectly ready to get into it with her sister. Being as frustrated as she is, Ashley is kind of welcoming a small fight with her sibling.  
Kyla, however, waves a finger in front of Ashley's face and stops the tirade to come.

"Ashley, you've got to calm down or I won't even try to help you... okay?"  
"...**Help** me? What are you talking about?"  
"Look, I... Ash, you and Spencer, I don't** have **to understand it, I just know that... well, you look so happy and I know you two want to spend time together... without having to listen to **another** of Aunt Betty's stories... so why don't you both stay in here?"

Ashley isn't sure what to do or say, but she knows that there is a sudden wetness rolling down her face and she cannot contain it.  
She isn't sure if it is tears of joy or just tears of relief.  
And, perhaps, it is both.  
Relief and joy at having Kyla's blessing, at having this whole night actually happen, at knowing that Spencer is just outside this bedroom door.

"Kyla... Thank you **so** much. Thank you, thank you,** thank you**."

And Ashley rushes forward, grabbing Kyla and holding her sister tight as she keeps repeating her thanks.  
And Kyla holds her back, just as fiercely.

"You're welcome, Ash."

/ / /

_'A Hard Day's Night' is playing, though you can hardly make it out with all the shouting going on, but Ashley hears a word or two and the faint lick of guitar strings, the barest hint of drums.  
But she looks over at Spencer, sees the girl singing along and bobbing that head of blonde hair around happily..._

_...And Ashley is in love.  
She fell in love as she wrote those letters. She fell in love the very second she heard Spencer's voice all the way from Ohio.  
But she falls again, just harder this time, because Spencer is holding her hand and looking so gorgeous._

_Spencer glances over and tries to get Ashley to sing with her, which - if it were anyone else - Ashley wouldn't dare.  
She does have a reputation to uphold, even if it is only in her own mind.  
But this is Spencer, the girl she'd do just about anything for, and if Spencer wants Ashley to sing along... then sing along she will._

_So, they sway and they laugh and they sing along to songs even after they end, the two of them joking with one another as The Beatles keep on playing to a crowd that can't hear them._

_And Spencer tilts her head, gracing Ashley with a look so affectionate and so full of adoration, that Ashley isn't sure what is up and what is down, not sure if it is day or night anymore._

_All she can see is Spencer.  
And that's all she needs to see._

Ashley thinks about that moment as she gives her sleeping attire to Spencer and asks Aunt Betty if she had anything to spare, which she did and Ashley knew that it really wasn't going to fit - but Ashley would make it work as best as she could.  
It probably wouldn't be flattering, but she didn't think Spencer would care.

And eleven turned to midnight. And Aunt Betty retired for the night, giving a brief - but stern - look to Glen and Lori.  
As she put it, she wanted no 'shenanigans' to occur in her den. And the older Carlin sibling and his girlfriend appeared appropriately warned.  
Then the five of them talked some, arranging who would sleep where and so forth.  
Glen took the floor, trying to be a 'gentlemen' as he put it, letting Lori and Kyla have the two couches.  
And that left Spencer and Ashley, alone at last, in a room with the door shut.

Surprisingly, Ashley finds herself to be nervous.

_Really, __**really **__nervous._

And she can tell that Spencer is, too. The girl stands there, shifting on her feet, holding Ashley's gown as if not knowing whether to go or stay.

"Is this alright? If you want to sleep out there, I'd understand..." Ashley says quietly and Spencer is quick to shake her head back and forth.  
"No, I... I want to be in here. I want to be with you."  
"Okay, good... that's good..."

And they smile at each other, happy and anxious and a billion other emotions flowing between the two of them.  
And they sort of sit down at the same time, Ashley on the right side of the bed and Spencer on the left.

"Are you tired?" Spencer asks softly, keeping that blue gaze on the bedspread.  
Ashley shakes her head, then realizes that Spencer won't see that and clears her throat.  
"Not really, no. Are you?"  
"Not really."

And now Ashley is starting to feel **more** nervous, because this isn't quite how she envisioned the two of them being with each other.  
She wasn't sure how it would go, admittedly, but what was coming so effortlessly before is now feeling stunted.  
By nerves. By want. By how big this all is, how important this all is.

They are quiet after that. The whole place is quiet, not a sound of talking out there in the den and every light - save the one in the guest bedroom - is off.  
Ashley feels the silence resting on her shoulders and is desperate to break it.  
Because they've waited all this time to meet and as wild as this situation is... It is just Ashley and Spencer.

_It's still just us... right?_

"Would you like to see something really neat?" Ashley asks and darts her eyes over to Spencer's and the girl from Ohio smiles at her.

"I'd love to."

/ / /

The air is cool, but very far from cold.  
And down below, the streets are still awake - a police siren or two, taxi horns that pierce the nighttime silence and the sound of tires on pavement.  
It doesn't sound like Ohio at all.  
At this time of night, Ohio is crickets and leaves fluttering in the breeze.  
Ohio is not at all like New York.

_And they crept out of the apartment.  
Spencer could hear Glen's snores and had to stifle a chuckle. Once out in the hallway, though, she allowed an amused snort to come forth.  
And Ashley took her hand, grinning, and pulled her long with quick steps._

There are still lights on in other buildings, voices that carry and hit Spencer's ears like faint echoes. This city is still very much awake.  
She knows that Ohio is asleep. Unless it is one of Ricky's parties, filled with smoke and beer and cool music.  
But, otherwise, Ohio is in slumber right now.  
And Spencer Carlin is not at all tired.

_"Where are we going?" Spencer asked and Ashley lead her to the end of the hallway, pushing at a door with her shoulder so it would budge.  
It opened with a kind of loud metallic moan and Spencer's eyes darted around, to see if anyone caught them doing... whatever they were doing.  
"I'll explain everything, promise." Ashley answered in a whisper as the two of them entered a poorly lit stairwell.  
"Ashley..." Spencer hushed out, feeling a tad reluctant all of a sudden, but the brunette girl squeezed her hand and leaned in close, so close that Spencer could actually feel Ashley's breath against her cheek.  
"It'll be okay, Spence, I swear it... Just trust me."  
And so Spencer decided to do just that._

They are not as clear to the naked eye as they are in Ohio, but you can still see stars in the sky. Pretty points of light, forming a bear or a lion or so many other things, and Spencer thinks it is lovely.  
Of course, those distant constellations cannot compare to Ashley Davies.  
Ashley Davies, the love of Spencer's life, quietly stepping up and tentatively placing her arms around Spencer's waist from behind.  
And all the nervousness slips away, like it was a mirage to begin with, and without a second thought... Spencer breathes easy and settles back into Ashley's hold.  
And stars cannot compare, cannot even come close to the bliss that Spencer feels as Ashley sighs happily in her ear.

_"I've only been to New York once before, when I was a kid, but I do remember sneaking off and going up to the roof..." Ashley said as they went up several flights of stairs.  
"And why were you sneaking off?" Spencer asked and Ashley could hear the smile in that voice.  
It made her smile in return, just like always.  
"It was hide and seek, so I hid." Ashley answers as they reach the door to the roof-top and she opens it and the nighttime air hits them.  
And she watched Spencer turn in a circle, taking it all in - the surrounding city, the vast black sky up above - and Ashley couldn't stop the rush of emotion that welled up within.  
It ran over her and, for the second time today, Ashley felt like weeping.  
But she knew it was from pure happiness this time._

All her life has been filled up with talking - the boring kind, the pointless kind.  
Or those hours of not talking where there is so much to say, so many secrets that she wishes she would have shared... There are a lot of those memories in Ashley's head.

But not now. Right now, holding Spencer Carlin as they both gaze silently out at the city, there is no need to talk. If they want to speak, they will, that is true.  
And it would be grand as well.  
But they don't** have **to. She can hear Spencer breathing, can almost feel the beat of Spencer's heart, can feel the warmth of Spencer's body.  
There are no words that describe how perfect this is and so Ashley doesn't attempt to say anything at all.

Ashley could stay like this forever and never long for more.

_"Ashley, are you okay?" And Spencer's sweet hands were on her face, wiping those teardrops away with care.  
"Yes, I am, I really am..."  
And Spencer kept on stroking her face and Ashley leaned into the touch, unable to resist the love she felt there.  
"It is beautiful up here." Spencer stated, not moving away and only drawing nearer.  
"Yea, it is... It took him hours to find me, when I hid up here..."_

_And Spencer nodded, as if she understood. And Ashley knew that she did, that she really and truly did._

_"And when he did, boy was he __**mad**__... Said I had worried him to death and that I was not allowed up here ever again, at least not without him..."  
"Ash..." Spencer started, but Ashley shook her head gently, wanting to continue. She reached up and kept that hand on her cheek, let the touch soothe her in a way that she hadn't allowed anything else to in a very long time.  
"But I know that he'd be okay with me being up here, tonight, with you... I know it, Spencer."_

_And Spencer held her then, didn't comment on the delicate sob that broke through Ashley's defenses.  
Spencer held her and Ashley fell even harder, even though she didn't think that possible._

/ / /

And the hours move on by, the two of them growing tired of standing, so they sit down near the door-way and lean against the wall.  
They press close to each other and Spencer's head slowly drifts until it is resting against Ashley's shoulder. And as if it were the simplest act ever, Ashley lets her head rest upon Spencer's.

"Ashley..."  
"Hmm?"  
"I can't believe you sang along with me at a Beatles concert."

And they laugh. And Ashley grabs Spencer's hand and slowly caresses each finger, then the palm, then the top where the veins are.  
And Spencer makes this little sound, like a hum of pleasure, and Ashley's eyes shut as she tries to soak all of this in, tries to fuse it to her bones so that she'll never lose it.

"Don't tell Kyla, okay?"  
"I won't tell a single soul."  
"Thank you."

They talk some after that, about the concert and about Aunt Betty and about Glen.  
But their speech is subdued, almost reverent.  
Both of them knowing that this is rare and special... and neither of them knowing when it will happen again.  
Spencer tries to hide a yawn, but Ashley sees it and grins just a bit at the sight.

"Want to head back?" Ashley asks and Spencer lifts her head away from Ashley's shoulder, so that they are face to face.  
And they stare at each other, that tension returning as if it had never left.  
And they knew that it had not gone away, it had just retreated until the timing was just right.  
Like now, on a roof-top and no one but the two of them around... well, the two of them and the stars.  
But the stars won't give up this moment. The stars will keep it for them.

"No, I don't want to go back... Do you?"

She can feel the air from Spencer's mouth and it hits against her lips.  
And Ashley is moving as if underwater. And Spencer's gaze is welcoming, is heavy with yearning.

"No... I don't want to back..."

And there they are, Spencer and Ashley, and they are kissing.  
And if they were able to read each other's minds, they'd find the same thoughts running through both.

_Your lips are so soft and I can't believe this is happening and can I pull you closer? Will you let me? You taste like... like something wonderful... And I love you, I love you __**so**__ much._

And Spencer forgets her shyness and her inexperience, pushing her fingers into Ashley's hair and keeping Ashley's head in place, feeling all the air leave her lungs and get replaced by this feeling - this stirring in her gut, this swirling in her stomach, this burning even further inside that makes her believe that things like breathing are not needed, not when she can kiss Ashley Davies.

And Ashley is shaking, feeling like this is the first kiss she has ever gotten and it is bowling her over and she is captured by it - captured by devotion and vulnerability and owned by love and so willing to give everything to this girl from Ohio, every touch and every song and every bit of Ashley's life... all of it to Spencer Carlin and no one else ever again.

They break apart.  
And they come back again.  
Over and over, until lips are full and cheeks are red and they are practically in each other's laps. And they break apart.  
And they come back again.  
Over and over, until the first peek of dawn can be seen on that horizon, an orange-pink strip of color at the edge of the night.

/ / /

Spencer and Ashley have their foreheads pressed together.

"What happens now?"  
"You have to go..."  
"I don't **want** to go."  
"I wish... Spence, I wish..."  
"...What?"  
"I wish I could take you with me. Or I could go with you."  
"You'd hate Ohio."  
"No I wouldn't... **You'd** be there."

And they kiss once more, they let it linger, they let it grow and develop and then softly fade.

"I love you, Ashley Davies."  
"I love **you**, Spencer Carlin."

/ / /

_**And you hope for something bigger than California.**_

_**And then you feel guilty for wanting something more than this 'Kyla Davies, 2464 Pinewood Drive, Hollywood, CA 90078'.**_

But Spencer could have never dreamed that all she could ever want would be in California,  
thanks to some silly pen-pal program at the church camp.

As they drive away, though, Glen at the wheel and Lori asleep, Spencer looks back at the only girl that will ever matter again - the girl who has her heart and will have it until they can see each other again... and Spencer doesn't try to hide the crying.

Because it is a little sad, but it is a lot more than that.  
It is wonder and happiness and love, too.

And Spencer knows she could never hope for something bigger.

Because, in Ashley Davies, she has found it all.

And they are in love, amazingly in love.  
And they both know that distance won't change a thing.

And it never will.

_**"God, she is such a bobby-sox girl, a square…" Ashley says out loud, reading the letter with her back on the mattress and her feet on the headboard.**_

_**But the grin on her own face is undeniable and unexplainable.**_

That grin didn't make sense, at first. But even then, Ashley was drawn to the girl with a boy's first name and wanted to tell this girl from Ohio about real bands, real music.  
She didn't know that writing a letter to Spencer would change everything.

Ashley didn't know she was going to meet the girl that would cause her heart to race and her palms to sweat. Ashley didn't know that she was going to feel so much love for one person.

That grin didn't make sense.  
At first.  
But it does now, even as she is fighting back tears and Kyla puts a sympathetic arm around her as they both watch the tail-lights of Spencer's car disappear.

Ashley gets it all now.  
And she'll never let it go again, not for anyone or anything.

Because, in Spencer Carlin, she has found it all.

And they are in love, amazingly in love.  
And they both know that distance won't change a thing.

And it never will.

/ / / / / / /

**THE END**


End file.
